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EVANGELINE 



A TALE OF ACADIE 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 



WITH A BIOGBAPIIICAL SKETCH, 
INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 

BY 

H. E. SCUDDER 



AND A SKETCH OF LONGFELLOW'S HOME LIFE 

BY HIS DAUGHTER 

ALICE M. LONGFELLOW 




HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

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Chicago : 158 Adams Street 



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J'b;izi.3 



jr9h 



Copyright, 18C6, 
By henry WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Copyright, 1879, 
By HOUGHTON, OSGOOD & CO. 

Copyright, 1883, 1896, 
By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

Copyright, 189G, 
By ALICE M. LONGFELLOW. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 3fass., U. S. A. 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 



A SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 

OF 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



I. 

The house is still standing in Portland, Maine, — a large, 
square, wooden house at the corner of Fore and Hancock 
streets, — where Longfellow was horn, February 27, 1807. 
Longfellow's early life, however, was passed in what is 
known as the Longfellow House, a substantial brick man- 
sion in Congress Street. Here lived his father, Stephen 
Longfellow, and his mother, Zilpha (Wads worth) Long- 
fellow. The father was a lawyer, who gathered honors 
through a long life, having been several times a member of 
the Massachusetts Legislature while Maine was a district 
of that State ; a member of the Hartford Convention, for 
he was a stout Federalist ; a presidential elector when Mon- 
roe was first elected ; and a member of the United States 
House of Representatives from 1823 to 1825. He died in 
1849, after Evangeline had set its seal upon his son's 
growing reputation. The mother was daughter of General 
Peleg Wadsworth, who had fought in the Revolutionary 
War. Both parents were descended from Englishmen, who 
came to this country in the early days of the colony, and 
whose successors were marked men in the generations that 
followed. Upon his mother's side the poet ti'aced his an- 
cestry to four of the Pilgrims who came in the Mayflower, 
two of these being Elder William Brewster and Captain 
John Alden. 



iv HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was the second son of the 
family, which contained four sons and four daughters. He 
took his name from his mother's brother. Lieutenant Henry 
Wadsworth, whose lieroic death was a fresh and tender 
memory in the family. Two years and a half before, on 
the night of September 4, 1804, he had been second in 
command of the bomb-ketch Litrepid, which was fitted up 
as an " infernal," and sent stealthily into the harbor of 
Tripoli to blow up the enemy's fleet. The officers and 
crew were to apply the match and escape in the boats ; but 
when the Intrepid was still a quarter of a mile from her 
destination, the watching men in the American fleet out- 
side saw a sudden line of light ; in a moment a column of 
fire shot up from the vessel, and Avith a tremendous exj^lo- 
sion bombs burst in every direction, and the masts and 
rigging flew into the air. Every soul on board perished. 
Something, perhaps, of this adventure entered into the 
poet's early associations, and deepened the ardor of his 
patriotism. 

The sea, at any rate, and a sea-fight nearer home, made 
a part of his boyish recollections. In 1813, when he was 
six years old, the American brig Enterprise fell in with the 
English brig Boxer, outside of Portland harbor, and a fight 
took place, which could be heard from the shore. It lasted 
for three quarters of an hour, the Boxer's colors being- 
nailed to the mast. The Enterprise came into the harbor, 
bringing her captive, but both commanders had been killed 
in the engagement, and were buried side by side in the 
cemetery on Mount joy. In his poem My Lost Youth, 
Longfellow recalls the town g-s it then was, and this memo- 
rable fight : — 

" I remember the black wharves aud the ships. 
And the sea-tides tossing free ; 
And Spanish sailoi-s with bearded lips, 
And the beauty and mystery of the ships, 
And the magic of the sea. 

And the voice of that wayward song 




MR. LONGFELLOW'S BIRTHPLACE, PORTLAND 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. V 

Is singing and saying still : 
* A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.' 

" I remember the bulwarks by the shore, 
And the fort upon the hill ; 
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar. 
The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er, 
And the bugle wild and shrill; 
And the music of that old song 
Throbs in my memory still : 
'A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.' 

" I remember the sea-fight far away. 
How it thundered o'er the tide ! 
And the dead captains as they lay 
In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay. 
Where they in battle died. 

And the sound of that mournful song 
■• Goes through me with a thrill : 

' A boy's will is the wind's will, 
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 

In the same poem Longfellow speaks of the 

" Gleams and glooms that dart 
Across the school -boy's brain." 

The first school which he attended was a child's school, 
kept on Spring Street by a dame known in the New Eng- 
land vernacular as Marm Fellows. Later he went to the 
town school in Love Lane, now Centre Street, for a short 
time, and then to the private school of Nathaniel H. Carter, 
in a little one-story house on the west side of Preble Street, 
now Congress. He was prepared for college at the Port- 
land Academy, which had for masters the same Mr. Cai'ter 
and Mr. Bezaleel Cushman, who subsequently was editor of 
the New York Evening Post. An usher, also, in the school 
was Mr. Jacob Abbott, who afterward became famous as a 
teacher and writer of books for children. His amiable and 
indulgent manner remained in the recollection of his pupil. 



vi HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

The promise of his life was fulfilled a little in those ear- 
liest days. Ten miles from Portland is the old Longfellow 
homestead at Gorham, and thither the boy was wont to go. 
In later life he sjjeaks of " my pleasant recollections of 
Gorham, the beautiful village, the elms, the farms, the pas- 
tures scented with pennyroyal, and the days of my boyhood, 
that have a perfume sweeter than field or flower." Here 
it was, perhaps, or in Deering Woods, that he had those 
early dreams to which he refers in the Prelude which opens 
his first published volume : — 

" And dreams of that which cannot die, 

Bright visions, came to me, 
As lapped in thought I used to lie, 
And gaze into the summer sky, 
Where the sailing clouds went by, 

Like ships upon the sea ; 

" Dreams that the soul of youth engage 

Ere Fancy has been quelled : 
Old legends of the monkish page, 
Traditions of the saint and sage, 
Tales that have the rime of age. 

And chronicles of eld." 

While he was still a school-boy he had begun to write 
and to print his poems. His first published poem was on 
Lo veil's Fight. His experience in the publication was re- 
called by him once, in a conversation with a younger poet, 
William Winter. He had droj^ped the manuscript with fear 
and trembling into the editor's box at the office of a weekly 
newspaper in Portland. When the next issue of the paper 
appeared the boy looked eagerly, but in vain, for his verses. 
" But I had another copy,'* he said, " and I immediately 
sent it to the rival weekly, and the next week it was pub- 
lished. I have never since had such a thrill of delight over 
any of my publications ; " and he told how he had bought 
a C02)y of the paper, still damp from the press, and walked 
with it into a by-street of the town, where he opened it, 
and found his poem actually printed. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. vii 

He was ready for college when he was fourteen, and 
his father entered him at Bowdoin, but for some reason 
he passed the greater part of his Freshman year at home. 
His college life was one which increased the expectation of 
his friends. One of his teachers in college, the late ven- 
erable Professor A. S. Packard, once gave his reminiscences 
of the poet, who entered with his brother Stephen. " He 
was," says Professor Packard, " an attractive youth, with 
auburn locks, clear, fresh, blooming complexion, and, as 
might be presumed, of well-bred manners and bearing." 

During his college life he contributed to the periodicals 
of the day. The most important of these, in a literary 
point of view, was the United States Literary Gazette, 
which was published simultaneously in New York and Bos- 
ton. It was founded by Theophilus Parsons. To this peri- 
odical Longfellow contributed seventeen poems ; the first 
five included under the division Earlier Poems, in his col- 
lected writings, were among the seventeen. Fourteen of 
Longfellow's poems contributed to the Literary Gazette 
were included in a little volume published in 1826, under 
the title of Miscellaneous Poems selected from the United 
States^ Literary Gazette, and one of these was The Hymn 
of the Moravian Nuns, which has always remained a favor- 
ite. In 1872 a friend brought from England Coleridge's 
inkstand, which he gave to Mr. Longfellow, who, in ac- 
knowledging the gift, wrote : — 

" This memento of the poet recalls to my recollection that 
Theophilus Parsons, subsequently eminent in Massachusetts 
jurisprudence, paid me for a dozen of my early pieces that 
appeared in his United States Literary Gazette with a 
copy of Coleridge's poems, which I still have in my posses- 
sion. Mr. Bryant contributed the Forest Hymn, The Old 
Man's Funeral, and many other poems to the same peri- 
odical, and thought he was well paid by receiving two 
dollars apiece ; a price, by the way, which he himself placed 
upon the poems, and at least double the amount of my 



viil HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

honorarium. Truly, times have changed with us litth'a- 
tears during the last half century." 

Longfellow graduated second in his class, and the class 
was one having a number of men of singular ability. It 
would have been a great class in any college which held 
Longfellow and Hawthorne, but this had also George B. 
Cheever and Jonathan Cilley, a young man of great prom- 
ise, who died in early manhood, and John S. C. Abbott. 
Fifty years after graduation the surviving members met at 
Brunswick, and Longfellow celebrated the occasion by his 
noble Morituri Salutamus. 

II. 

Near the close of his college course an event took place 
in the order of academic life which had an interesting influ- 
ence on the poet's career. The story is told by his class- 
mate Abbott : " Mr. Longfellow studied Horace with great 
enthusiasm. There was one of his odes which he particu- 
larly admired. He had made himself as familiar with it as 
if it were written in his own mother tongue, and had trans- 
lated it into his own glowing verse, which rivalled in melody 
the diction of Horace. There was at that time residing in 
Brunswick a very distinguished lawyer by the name of Ben- 
jamin Orr. Being a fine classical scholar, Horace was his 
pocket companion, from whose pages he daily read. He 
was, as one of the Trustees of Bowdoin College, accustomed 
to attend the annual examinations of the classes in the 
classics. In consequence of his accurate scholarship he was 
greatly dreaded by the students. The ode which pleased 
young Henry Longfellow so much was also one of his favor- 
ites. It so happened that he called upon Longfellow to 
translate that ode at, I think, our Senior examination. The 
translation was fluent and beautiful. Mr. Orr was charmed, 
and eagerly inquired the name of the brilliant scholar. 
Soon after this the trustees of the college met to choose a 
professor of modern languages. Mr. Orr, whose voice was 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. ix 

potent In that board, said, " Why, Mr. Longfellow is your 
man. He is an admirable classical scholar. I have seldom 
heard anything more beautiful than his version of one of 
the most difficult odes of Horace." 

The poet was but nineteen when the appointment was 
made, and the confidence which elder men had in him is 
more noticeable since the professorship to which he was 
called was a new one, and there were few, If any, prece- 
dents In other colleges to determine its character. At the 
time when the appointment came to him Longfellow was 
reading law in his father's office, but this was probably only 
incidental to his larger interest in literature. At any rate 
he accepted at once the offer made to him, and went to 
Europe to qualify himself for the position by study and 
travel. 

He remained away three years and a half, and returned 
to enter upon his college duties in the fall of 1829. He 
had spent his time of preparation in England, France, Ger- 
many, Spain, and Italy, and had laid the foundation of that 
liberal knowledge of modern European literature which 
served him In such good stead throughout his life. His 
journey did more than this for him. It gave him the large 
background to his thoughts which served to bi-ing out clearly 
the deeper purposes of life. In the glowing and affection- 
ate dedication to Longfellow by George Washington Greene 
of his life of his grandfather. General Greene, there Is a dis- 
tinct reference to this period of the poet's life. 

" Thirty-nine years ago this month of April," he writes 
in April, 1867, " you and I were together at Naples, wan- 
dering up and down amid the wonders of that historical 
city, and consciously in some things, and unconsciously In 
others, laying up those precious associations which are 
youth's best preparation for age. We were young then, 
with life all before us ; and, in the midst of the records of 
a great past, our thoughts would still turn to our own fu- 
ture. Yet even In looking forward they caught the coloring 



X HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

of that past, making things bright to our eyes which, from 
a purely American point of view, would have worn a dif- 
ferent asjject. From then till now the spell of those days 
has been upon us. 

" One day — I shall never forget it — we returned at sun- 
set fi'om a long afternoon amid the statues and relics of the 
Museo Borbonico. Evening was coming on, with a sweet 
promise of the stars : and our minds and hearts were so full 
that we could not think of shutting ourselves up in our 
rooms, or of mingling with the crowd on the Toledo. We 
wanted to be alone, and yet to feel that there was life all 
around us. We went up to the flat roof of the house, 
where, as we walked, we could look down into the crowded 
street, and out upon the wonderful bay, and across the bay 
to Ischia and Capri and Sorrento, and over the house-tops 
and villas and vineyards to Vesuvius. • . . And over all, 
with a thrill like that of solemn music, fell the splendor of 
the Italian sunset. 

" We talked and mused by turns, till the twilight deep- 
ened and the stars came forth to mingle tlieir mysterious 
influences with the overmastering magic of the scene. It 
was then that you unfolded to me your plans of life, and 
showed me from what ' deep cisterns ' you had already 
learned to draw. From that day the office of literature 
took a new place in my thoughts. I felt its forming power 
as I had never felt it before, and began to look with a calm 
resignation upon its trials, and with true appreciation upon 
its rewards." 

It is interesting, as one thinks of Longfellow in his youth, 
and again in the splendor of his age, to turn to the words 
with which he closes the record of his first journey : — 

" My pilgrimage is ended. I have come home to rest ; 
and recording the time i)ast, I have fulfilled these things, 
and written them in this book, as it would come into my 
mind, — for the most part, when the duties of the day were 
over, and the world around me was hushed in sleep. . . . 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xi 

The morning watches have begun. And as I write the mel- 
ancholy thought intrudes upon me, To what end is all this 
toil ? Of what avail these midnight vigils ? Dost thou 
covet fame ? Vain dreamer ! A few brief days, and what 
will the busy world know of thee ? " He is described at 
this time as '' full of the ardor excited by classical pursuits. 
He liad sunny locks, a fresh complexion, and clear blue 
eyes, with all the indications of a joyous temperament." 

He entered upon his work as professor with such spirit 
that he began very early to draw students to Bowdoin. 
Two years after entering upon his new duties, he was mar- 
ried to Mary Storer Potter, daughter of Hon. Barrett Pot- 
ter and Anne (Storer) Potter, of Portland. Judge Potter 
was a man of strong character, and his daughter, by the tes- 
timony of those who knew her, was both strong in her intel- 
lectual nature and of rare beauty of person. It is thought 
that the reference is to her in the verses Footstej^s of An- 
gels, where the poet, seeing in a reverie the forms of de- 
parted friends, sings : — 

" And with them the Being Beauteous 
Who unto my youth was given, 
More than all things else to love me, 
And is now a saint in heaven. 

" With a slow and noiseless footstep 
Comes that messenger divine, 
Takes the vacant chair beside me, 
Lays her gentle hand in mme. 

" And she sits and gazes at me 

With those deep and tender eyes, 
Like the stars, so still and saint-like. 
Looking downward from the skies." 

Mr. Longfellow held his professorship at Bowdoin for 
five years, and during this time put forth his first formal 
publications. The eai'liest book with which he had to do 
was Elements of French Grammar, translated from the 



Xii HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

French of C F. L'Homond, and published in 1830. Other 
works, edited or translated by him, and having direct refer- 
ence to his occupation as a professor of modern languages 
and literature, appeared during these five years. The sub- 
jects of his more purely literary productions during this 
period were also closely connected with his profession. He 
published articles in the North Am.erican Review on the 
Origin and Progress of the French Language, a De- 
fence of Poetry, on the Hlstorg of the Italian Language 
and Dialects, on Spanish Language and Literature, on 
Old English Romances, and on Sjyanish Devotional and 
Moral Poetry. In 1833 he took tliis last essay, and at- 
taching to it a translation of Manrique's Coj^las, and of 
some sonnets by Lope de Vega and others, produced a vol- 
ume entitled Coplas de Manrique, which may be regarded 
as his first purely literary venture in book form. His 
name was placed on the title-page with his title as pro- 
fessor, and the book was publislied by Allen & Ticknor, 
predecessors of the jwesent publishers of his works. 

Meanwhile he was beginning to make use of the abun- 
dant material which he had gathered during his Euro- 
pean sojourn, in the form of sketches of travel and little 
romances drawn from legendary lore. He began in The 
New England Magazine, a periodical long since dead, a 
series of papers under the title The Schoolmaster, but dis- 
continued them after a few numbers and used some of this 
material and much more in his first considerable book, 
Outre-Mer. 

This book appeared at first with no name attached, but 
it was probably well known who wrote it ; and when the 
second part appeared, shortly afterward, Professor Long- 
fellow's name was openly connected with it. The last 
three chapters of The Schoolmaster were not reprinted, 
and the serial was not resumed, perhaps because the author 
preferred the more satisfactory and more dignified appear- 
ance in book form. A prior publication in a magazine was 



' 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xiii 

more likely to obscure a book then than now. It is not 
impossible that the slight concejition of a schoolmaster was 
reserved, also, for future use in the tale of Kavanagh. 

His work as an author and that as a professor were sub- 
stantially one. " He proved himself," says one of his con- 
temporaries at Bowdoln, " a teacher who never wearied of 
his work, who won by his gentle grace, and commanded 
respect by his self-respect and his respect for his office." 
He assumed the duties of librarian, also, and liis work was 
comprehensively literary. He was twenty-six years old, 
and had made a positive place in literature. 

ni. 

In a letter dated Boston, January 5, 1835, Mr. George 
Ticknor, then Professor of the French and Spanish Lan- 
guages and of Belles Lettres at Harvard College, wrote as 
follows to his friend, C. S. Daveis, of Portland: "Besides 
wishing you a happy New Year, I have a word to say 
about myself. I have substantially resigned my place at 
Cambridge, and Longfellow is appointed substantially to 
fill it. I say suhstantlallij, because he is to pass a year or 
more in Germany and the North of Europe, and I am to 
continue in the place till he returns, which wiU be in a year 
from next Commencement, or thereabouts." 

The transfer from Bowdoin to Harvard grew out of the 
increasing reputation of the young professor, and in taking 
another journey to Europe he was carrying forward the 
same spirit of thorough preparation, and was completing 
the survey of European languages and literature, by making 
acquaintance with those parts unvisited in his former resi- 
dence abroad. His eighteen months of travel and study 
Avere very productive, but they were shadowed by the death 
of his wife, who was taken ill at Rotterdam, and died there 
November 29, 1835. The record of his life during this 
time is partially disclosed in the pages of Hyperion., and 
the mournful character of its early chapters may well be 



xiv HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

taken as echoing the temper in which he pursued his soli- 
tary studies. 

He returned to America in November, 1836, and after 
a short visit to his home in Portland he entered upon his 
new work at Cambridge. The house which is so identified 
with Longfellow's life was his home from the time he came 
to Cambridge until his death, although it was not till 1843 
that he became actual owner of it. The ample, dignified 
mansion on Brattle Street has a generous surrounding of 
green fields, and a clear outlook across meadows to the 
winding Charles and the gentle hills beyond, but in 1836 
it was even more rural in its position. The history of the 
house carries it back to the days of the rich Tory mer- 
chants, who were so loath to abandon the ease and dignity 
of the province for the anxieties and levelling of an inde- 
pendence of England. It was built by John Vassall in 
1759, as a home for himself and his bride, who was a sister 
of the last royal lieutenant-governor of the province. At 
the outbreak of the Revolution Vassall fled to London, and 
the house passed into the hands of the provincial govern- 
ment. When soldiers flocked to Cambridge, after the Lex- 
ington and Concord fight, it was used by a battalion of 
Colonel John Glover's regiment of Marblehead fishermen. 
They held it but a short time, for upon Washington's ar- 
rival in Cambridge the house, as the most commodious in 
the place, was made ready for the general's headquarters. 
Here Washington and his military family remained during 
the siege of Boston. 

Upon the transfer of military movements southward, 
Nathaniel Tracy, of Newbury port, who had grown rich by 
privateering, bought the estate ; but his wealth vanished 
almost as rapidly as it was acquired, and in 1786 the place 
was sold to Thomas Russell, the first president of the United 
States Branch Bank ; and he in his turn sold it in 1792 
to Andrew Craigie, who had been apothecary-general to 
the Continental Army, and had amassed a fortune in that 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xv 

office. He became embarrassed in his affairs, and when 
he died his widow, who continued to live there, drew her 
income in part from the lease of rooms in her house to 
college officers and others. Mr. Sparks went there to live, 
and was at work upon his edition of the life and writings 
of Washington in the very room occupied by the general. 
Hither also came Dr. Edward Everett, and here lived and 
worked Dr. Joseph E. Worcester, the lexicographer. 

The story is told that when Mr. Longfellow knocked at 
the door and asked the stately old lady if she would receive 
him as a lodger, she demurred. 

" I am sorry to tell you," she said, " that I never have 
students to live with me." 

" But I am not a student," he replied. " I am a pro- 
fessor in the University." 

" A professor ? " She looked curiously at one so like 
most students in appearance. 

" I am Professor Longfellow," he said. 

" If you are the author of Outre-Mer, then you can 
come," said the old lady, and proceeded to show him her 
house. She led him up the broad staircase, and, proud 
of the historic mansion, opened one spacious room after 
another, only to close the door of each, saying, " You can- 
not have that," until at length she led him into the south- 
east corner room of the second story. " This was General 
AVashington's chamber," she said ; " you may have this." 
And here he gladly set up his home. 

Old Madam Craigie continued to live in the house until 
her death. On one occasion her poet lodger, entering her 
jDarlor in the morning, found her sitting by the open win- 
dow, through which innumerable canker-worms had crawled 
from the trees they were devouring outside. They had 
fastened themselves to her dress, and hung in little writhing 
festoons from the white turban on her head. Her visitor, 
surprised and shocked, asked if he could do nothing to 
destroy the worms. Raising her eyes from the book which 



xvi HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

she sat calmly reading, she said in tones of solemn rebuke, 
"Young man, have not our fellow-worms as good a right to 
live as we ? " Dr. Worcester bought the estate, and af ter- 
wai'd sold it to Mr. Longfellow. 

He sjient seventeen years in Cambridge as professor, and 
he carried the title the rest of his days. It has not been 
customary of late years to associate Mr. Longfellow with 
academic life, but while he was engaged in it he gave 
himself to it with great assiduity. Under Mr. Ticknor's 
management, the modern languages and literature at Har- 
vard had been erected into a department, with four for- 
eigners for teachers, all being directed and supervised by 
the jirofessor in charge. Something of the nature of this 
department jilan, which was an innovation upon the cus- 
tomary college method, may be gathered from the letter 
of Mr. Ticknor already quoted, in which he announced 
the election of Mr. Longfellow. " Within the limits of the 
department," he writes, "I have entirely broken up the 
division of classes, established fully the principle and prac- 
tice of progress accox-ding to proficiency, and introduced 
a system of voluntary study, which for several years has 
embraced from one hundred and forty to one hundred and 
sixty students ; so that we have relied hardly at all on 
college discipline, as it is called, but almost entirely on the 
good dispositions of the young men and their desire to 
learn." 

The traditions of this department were carried forward 
by Mr. Longfellow, as may be seen by an animated letter 
of reminiscences, written in 1881 by Rev. Edward Everett 
Hale, who was one of his students : — 

" I was so fortunate as to be in the first ' section,' which 
Mr. Longfellow instructed personally when he came to Cam- 
bridge in 1836. Perhaps I best illustrate the method of his 
instruction when I say that I think every man in that sec- 
tion would now say that he was on intimate terms with Mr. 
Longfellow. We are all near sixty now, but I think that 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xvil 

every one of the section would expect to have Mr. Longfel- 
low^ recognize him, and would enter into familiar talk with 
him if they met. From the first he chose to take with us 
the relation of a personal friend a few years older than we 
were. 

" As it happened, the regular recitation rooms of the col- 
lege were all in use, and indeed I think he was hardly ex- 
pected to teach any language at all. He was to oversee the 
department and to lecture. But he seemed to teach us 
German for the love of it ; I know I thought he did, and 
till now it never occurred to me to ask whether it were a 
part of his regular duty. Any way, we did not meet him 
in one of the rather dingy ' recitation rooms,' but in a sort 
of pai'lor. carpeted, hung with pictures, and otherwise hand- 
somely furnished, which was, I believe, called ' the Corpora- 
tion Room.' We sat round a mahogany table, which was 
reported to be meant for the dinners of the trustees, and the 
whole affair had the aspect of a friendly gathering in a 
private house, in which the study of German was the amuse- 
ment of the occasion. These accidental surroundings of the 
place characterize well enough the whole proceeding. 

" He began with familiar ballads, read them to us, and 
made us read them to him. Of course we soon committed 
them to memory without meaning to, and I think this was 
probably part of his theory. At the same time we were 
learning the paradigms by rote. But we never studied the 
grammar except to learn them, nor do I know to this hour 
what are the contents of half the pages in the regular Ger- 
man grammars. 

" This was quite too good to last ; for his regular duty 
was the oversight of five or more instructors, who were 
teaching French, German, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese 
to two or three hundred undergraduates. All these gentle- 
men were of European birth, and you know how under- 
graduates are apt to fare with such men. Mr. Longfellow 
had a real administration of the whole department. His 



xvin HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

title was ' Smith Professor of Modern Literature,' but we 
always called him ' the Head,' because he was head of the 
department. We never knew when he might look in on a 
recitation and virtually conduct it. We were delighted to 
liave him come. 'Any slipshod work of some poor wretch 
from France, who was tormented by wild-cat Sophomores, 
would be made straight and decorous and all right. We all 
knew he was a poet, and were proud to have him in the 
college, but at the same time we resjjected him as a man of 
affairs. 

" Besides this, he lectured on authors or more general 
subjects. I think attendance was voluntary, but I know we 
never missed a lecture. I have full notes of his lectures on 
Dante's Dlvina Coviviedia, which confirm my recollections, 
namely, that he read the whole to us in English, and ex- 
plained whatever he thought needed comment. I have often 
referred to these notes since. And though I suppose he 
included all that he thought worth while in his notes to his 
translation of Dante, I know that until that was published 
I could find no such reservoir of comment on the poem." 

Another of his jjupils, T. W. Higginson, in recalling the 
days of Longfellow's professorship, writes : " In respect of 
courtesy his manners quite anticipated the present time, and 
were a marked advance upon the merely pedagogical rela- 
tion which then prevailed. He was one of the few profes- 
sors who then addressed his pupils as ' Mr. ; ' his tone to 
them, though not paternal or brotherly, was always gentle- 
manly. On one occasion, during an abortive movement 
towai'd rebellion, some of the elder professors tried in vain 
to obtain a hearing from a crowd of angry students col- 
lected in the college yard ; but when Longfellow spoke, 
there was a hush, and the word went round, 'Let us hear 
Professor Longfellow, for he always treats us as gentlemen.' 
As an instructor he was clear, suggestive, and encouraging ; 
his lectures on the great French writers were admirable, 
and his facility in equivalent phrases was of great use to 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xix 

his jiupils and elevated their standai'd of translation. He 
was scrupulously faithful to his duties, and even went 
through the exhausting process of marking French exer- 
cises with exemplary patience. Besides his own classes in 
Moliere, Racine, and other poets, he had the general supei'- 
vision of his department, which inclucled subordinate teach- 
ers in French, Spanish, Italian, and German. All these 
were under his authority, and he doubtless had the selection 
of all appointees. There was probably no coUege in the 
United States which had so large a corps of instructors in 
the modern languages as had Harvard at that time." 

With the regular, methodical habits indicated in the fore- 
going reminiscences, the professor found place for the lit- 
terateur and poet. Contributions to the North American 
" were continued," and it is to be noted that one of these 
was a hearty recognition of Hawthorne's Twice - Told 
Tales, which appeared in 1837, and needed at the time all 
the encouragement which appreciative minds could give. 
How much pleasure it gave to Hawthoi'ne may be read in 
the letter which the story-teller was moved to write to the 
critic : — 

Salem, June 19, 1837. 

Dear Longfellow, — I have to-day received and read with 
huge delight your review of Hawthorne's Tivice-Told Tales. 
I frankly own that I was not without hopes that you would do 
this kind office for the book ; though I could not have antici- 
pated how very kindly it would be done. Whether or no the 
public will agree to the praise which you bestow on uie, there are 
at least five persons who think you the most sagacious critic on 
earth, namely, my motlier and two sisters, my old maiden aunt, 
and finally the strongest believer of the whole five, my own self. 
If I doubt the sincerity and correctness of any of my critics, it 
shall be of those who censure me. Hard would be the lot of a 
poor scribbler, if he may not have this privilege. . . . 
Very sincerely yours, 

Nath. Hawthorne. 

Other papers of this period were articles on Teg tier's 



XX HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Frith iof's Saga and Anglo-Saxo7i Literature, indicative of 
his scholastic work. 



IV. 

As Outre-Mer was. in some ways the report of his first 
journey to Europe, so Hyperion stands as expressive of his 
second. Outre-Mer is a record of travel, continuous in its 
geographical outline, but separated from ordinary itineraries 
by noting less the personal accidents of the traveller than 
the poetic and romantic scenes which, whether of the present 
or the past, marked the journey and transformed it into the 
pilgrimage of a devotee to art. In Hyperion a more delib- 
erate romance is intended, but the lights and shades of the 
story are heightened or deepened by the passages of travel 
and study, which form the background from which the 
human figures are relieved. It is interesting to observe 
how, as the writer was more withdrawn from the actual 
Europe of his eyes, he used the Europe of his memory and 
imagination to wait upon the movements of a profounder 
study, the adventures of a human soul. These two books 
and the occasional critical papers are characterized by a 
strong consciousness of literary art. Life seems always to 
suggest a book or a picture, and nature is always viewed in 
its immediate relation to form and color. There is a singu- 
lar discovery of the Old World, and while European writers 
like Chateaubriand, for example, were turning to America 
for new and unworn images, Longfellow, reflecting the awak- 
ing desire for the enduring forms of art which his country- 
men were showing, eagerly disclosed the treasures to which 
the owners seemed almost indifferent. It is difficult to 
measure the influence which his broad, catholic taste and 
his refined choice of subjects have had upon American cul- 
ture through the medium of these works, and that large 
body of his poetry which draws an inspiration from foreign 
life. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xxi 

Hyjjerion at once became a general favorite. Barry 
Cornwall is said to have read it through once a year for the 
sake of its style. It is so faithful in its descriptions that it 
still serves as a companion to travellers on the Rhine, and 
is read at Heidelberg and elsewhei'e somewhat as Byron 
used to be read in Switzerland and Italy. It contains some 
translations also of German verse, which by their musical 
form obtained at once a popularity aside from the prose 
romance. 

The same year, 1839, which saw the publication of 
Hyperion saw also the appearance of Longfellow's first vol- 
ume given wholly to verse, a thin book entitled Voices of 
the Night. He had been contributing poems from time 
to time to the Knickerbocker Magazine, and he now 
collected these, some of the earlier poems contributed to 
the United States Literary Gazette, the poetry in the 
volume of Coplas de Manrique, the verses contained in 
Hypterion, and other translations. The most famous poem 
in this collection was the Psalm of Life. It was written, 
we are told by Mr. Fields, on a bright summer morning in 
July, 1838, as the poet sat at a small table between two 
windows, in the corner of his chamber. He kept it unpub- 
lished for some time, since it had a very close connection 
in his own mind with the troubles through which he had 
lately passed. 

In 1841 the next volume of poems was issued, under 
the title of Ballads and other Poems, — a title still pre- 
served in a division of his collected poems. It may be 
said to contain more of his famous short poems than any 
other volume which he issued, for it opens with The Skele- 
ton in Armor ; it holds The Wreck of the Hesperus, The 
Village Bldcks7mtJi, The Rainy Day, To the River 
Charles, Maidenhood, and Excelsior. In the notes to his 
poems Mr. Longfellow has himself related the slight inci- 
dents which led to the writing of The Skeleton in Armor. 

A letter from Mr. Longfellow to Mr. Charles Lanman 



xxii HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

gives an interesting account of the circumstances attending 
the production of The Wreck of the Hesperus : — 

Cambridgk, November 24, 1871. 

My dear Sir, — Last night I had the pleasure of receiving 
your friendly letter and the beautiful pictures that came with it, 
and I thank you cordially for the welcome gift and the kind 
remembrance that prompted it. They are both very interesting 
to me ; pax'ticularly the Keef of Norman's Woe. What you say 
of the ballad is also very gratifying, and induces me to send yon 
in return a bit of autobiography. 

Looking over a journal for 1839, a few days ago, I found the 
following entries : — 

" December 17. — News of shipwrecks, horrible, on the coast. 
Forty bodies washed ashore near Gloucester. One woman lashed 
to a piece of wreck. There is a reef called Norman's Woe, 
where many of these took place. Among others the schooner 
Hesperus. Also, the Seaflower, on Black Rock. I will write a 
ballad on this. 

" December 30. — Wrote last evening a notice of Allston's 
poems, after which sat till 1 o'clock by the fire, smoking ; when 
suddenly it came into my head to write the Ballad of the 
Schooner Hesperus, which I accordingly did. Then went to 
bed, but could not sleep. New thoughts were running in my 
mind, and I got up to add them to the Ballad. It was 3 by the 
clock." 

All this is of no importance but to myself. However, I like 
sometimes to recall the circumstances under which a poem was 
written, and as you express a liking for this one it may perhaps 
interest you to know why and when and how it came into exist- 
ence. I had quite forgotten about its first publication ; but I 
find a letter from Park Benjamin, dated January 7, 1840, be- 
ginning (you will recognize his style) as follows : — 

" Your ballad. The Wreck of The Hesperus, is grand. In- 
closed are twenty-five dollars (the sum you mentioned) for it, 
paid by the proprietors of ' The New Worixl,' in which glorious 
paper it will resplendently coruscate on Saturday next." 

Pardon this gossip, and believe me, with renewed thanks, 
yours faithfully, 

Henry W. Longfellow. 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xxiii 

The word excelsior happened to catch his eye one even- 
ing as he was reading a bit of newspaper, and his mind 
began to kindle over the suggestion of the word. He took 
the nearest scrap of paper, which happened to be a letter 
from Charles Sumner, and wrote the verses with correc- 
tions on the back. The scrap is still preserved and shown 
at the library of Harvard University. A pretty story is 
told of the fortunes of one of the poems in the volume, the 
well-known Maidenhood. Once when it was printed in an 
illustrated paper, it fell into the hands of a poor woman 
living in a lonely cabin in a sterile portion of the North- 
west. She had papered the walls of her cabin with the 
journals which a friend had sent her, and this poem with its 
picture was upon the wall by her table. Here, as slie stood 
at her bread-making or ironing, day after day, she gazed at 
the picture and read the poem until, by long brooding over 
it, she understood it and absorbed it as people rarely pos- 
sess the words they read. The friend who sent her the 
papers was himself a man of letters, and coming afterward 
to see her in her loneliness, stood amazed and humbled as 
she talked to him artlessly about the poem, and disclosed 
the depths of her intelligence of its beauty and thought. 

In 1842 he paid a third visit to Europe. It was on his 
return voyage in October that he wrote the Poems on 
Slavery which made his next volume, and formed his con- 
ti'ibution to the discussion which was then engrossing so 
much of the thought of the country. 

In July, 1843, he married Miss Fanny Appleton, 
daughter of the late Nathan Appleton, of Boston, a lady 
of noble bearing, of great beauty of person and dignity of 
character, whom he had met on his recent journey in 
Europe. By her he had two sons and three daughters. 
Mrs. Longfellow died July 9, 1861, under circumstances 
which caused a terrible shock. She had been amusing her 
children with some seals which she made, when some of 
the burning wax fell upon her light summer dress, and 



xxiv HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

before help could be given she had received severe burns, 
from which she died in a few hours. The shock to the 
poet was so great that for a time it seemed as if reason 
itself was in danger ; but the firmness and calmness of 
his nature reasserted itself, and he slowly came back to his 
singing. His friends were wont to obsei've, however, his 
increased signs of age and the greater silence of his life. 
" I have never heard him make but one allusion to the 
great grief of his life," said an intimate friend. " We 
were speaking of Schiller's fine poem, ' The Ring of Poly- 
crates.' He said, ' It was just so with me. I was too 
happy. I might fancy the gods envied me, if I could 
fancy heathen gods.' " 

To return to his publications in the order of their ap- 
pearance. The Spanish Student came out in 1843, and 
in 1845 he edited a little collection of jioems called The 
Waif. In the same year, also, he made the important col- 
lection known as The Poets and Poetry of Europe^ con- 
taining biographical and critical sketches, with translations 
by various English poets, his own contribution being con- 
siderable. In 1846 appeared The Belfry of Bruges and 
other Poems, and the next year came Evangeline. 

Two years later, in 1849, appeared Mr. Longfellow's 
latest prose work, Kavanagh, a tale of New England life, 
and in 1850 a new volume of poems, entitled The Seaside 
and the Fireside. The dedication of this volume, ad- 
dressed to no one name, is a graceful acknowledgment of 
the multitudinous responses which he was now receiving. 
" Thanks," he says, — 

" Thanks for the sympathies that ye have shown ! 
Thanks for each kindly word, each silent token, 
That teaches me, when seeming most alone, 

Friends are around us, though no word be spoken. 

" Kind messages, that pass from land to land ; 

Kind letters, that betray the heart's deej) history, 
In which we feel the pressure of a hand, — 

One touch of fire, — and all the rest is mystery ! " 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xxv 

And the Dedication closes with words which had a truly 
prophetic meaning : — 

" Therefore I hope, as no unwelcome guest, 

At your warm fireside, when tlie lamps are lighted, 
To have my place reserved among the rest, 
Nor stand as one unsought and uninvited ! ' ' 

The longest poem in the collection was The Building of 
the Ship, — " that admirably constructed poem," as Dr. 
Holmes says, " beginning with the literal description, pass- 
ing into the higher region of sentiment by the most natural 
of transitions, and ending with the noble climax, 

" ' Thou too sail on, Ship of State,' 

which has become the classical expression of patriotic emo- 
tion." It would be curious if it should prove that the ode 
of Horace, the translation of which led to Mr. Longfellow's 
appointment to a professorship at Bowdoin, was that one 
beginning — 

" navis referent in mare te novi," 

which the poet so nobly repeated in higher sti'ains at the 
close of The Building of the Ship. Mr. Noah Brooks, in 
a paper on " Lincoln's Imagination," which he contributed 
to Scribner's Monthly (August, 1879), mentions that he 
found the President one day attracted by these closing 
stanzas, which were quoted in a political speech. " Know- 
ing the whole poem," he adds, " as one of my early ex- 
ercises in recitation, I began, at his request, with the 
description of the launch of the ship, and repeated it to the 
end. As he listened to the last lines, — 

" ' Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, 
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears. 
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! ' 

his eyes filled with tears, and his cheeks were wet. He 
did not speak for some minutes, but finally said with sim- 



XXVI HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

plicity, ' It is a wonderful gift to be able to stir men like 
that.' " 



The critics had complained of the European flavor of 
Mr. Longfellow's verse. He was steadily keeping on his 
way, however, expressing his nature honestly, and finding 
a noble delivery in such national poems as The Buildiiig 
of the ShijJ. 

It is noticeable how^ much more fully the tide of his poe- 
try set in the direction of America after the publication of 
Evangeline ; while The Golden Legend was published in 
1851, and is perhaps the most perfect expression of the Old 
World in his verse. The Song of Hiawatha appeared in 
1855, and awakened an enthusiasm which was unexampled 
in the history of his literary career. 

The story is told that in the summer of 1857 acting 
Governor Stanton, of Kansas, paid a visit to the citizens of 
Lawrence, in that State. After partaking of the hospital- 
ities shown him by Governor Robinson, he addressed, by 
request, a crowd of some five hundred free-state men, who 
did not hesitate to manifest their disapprobation at such 
portions of his speech as did not accord with their peculiar 
political views. At the close of his speech Mr. Stanton 
pictured in glowing language the Indian tradition of Hia- 
watha, of the " peace pipe " shaped and fashioned by 
Gitche Manito, and by which he called tribes of men to- 
gether, closing with the lines, — 

" I am weary of your quarrels, 
Weary of your wars and bloodshed, 
Weary of your prayers for vengeance, 
Of your wrangliug-s and dissensions ; 
All your strengtli is in your union, 
All your danger is in discord ; 
Therefore be at peace henceforward, 
And as brothers live together." 

The aptness of the quotation from so favorite a poem acted 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xxvii 

like a charm for the time in pacifying the crowd, who 
applauded vociferously. 

Innumerable discussions arose over the faithfulness of 
the poem to Indian traditions, but the most renowned In- 
dian scholars supported the claims of the poem to truthful- 
ness, and the liquid names passed at once into common 
use. It may fairly be said that by this work a popularity 
was given to Indian names which did much to preserve 
them from disuse as titles to rivers, mountains, and dis- 
tricts. 

The Courtship of Miles Standish appeared in 1858, 
and the volume bearing this title contained also a number 
of short poems, under the collective title Birds of Passage. 
The Atlantic Monthly had been established the year befoi-e, 
and in the first number Mr. Longfellow published his jioem 
Santa Filomena. He became a very frequent contributor, 
and some of the poems in this volume were those which 
had thus far appeared in The Atlantic. Indeed, after this 
date, his smaller volumes of original verse were for the 
most part collections from time to time of poenis which 
were first printed in that magazine. In the following year 
the poet received the degree of Doctor of Laws from 
Harvard. 

In the fall of 1863 was published Tales of a TVayside 
Inn, with a few poems added under the title Birds of 
Passage, Flight the Second. The Tales constitute the 
division known as the First Day, for the volume as now 
published contains also two other parts. The Prelude to 
this first part, introducing the characters who share in the 
festivities of the Inn, has always been a favorite," and the 
several personages have been identified with more or less 
confidence, the Inn itself being the old Howe Tavern, which 
still stands by the turnpike which runs through Sudbury, 
in Massachusetts : the landlord is easily said to stand for 
Lyman Howe ; the theologian for Professor Treadwell, the 
pliysicist, who was also an unprofessional student of theol- 



xxviii HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

ogy ; the poet for T. W. Parsons, the musician for Ole 
Bull, the student for Heniy Wales, and the Sicilian for 
Luigi Monti. The original, if there was one, of the Span- 
ish Jew is not known. 

Flower-de-Luce was the title of a small volume of poems 
published in 1867, and the same year appeared the first 
of the three volumes containing the poet's translation of 
Dante, a work which was completed by the press in 1872. 
One of his friends states that his translation of the Inferno 
" was the result of ten minutes' daily work at a standing 
desk in his library, while his coffee was reaching the boil- 
ing point on his breakfast table." As he was an orderly 
man, and like all highly organized natures set a high value 
on time, this may well have been ; but the final result was 
obtained only after a long and careful consideration, in 
which the poet invited the aid of Mr. Lowell, Professor 
Norton, Mr. Howells, and other Italian scholars, who met 
with him in a little club for the discussion of the work. 

In May, 1868, Mr. Longfellow again visited Europe 
with his, family, and, going now with the accumulating 
honors of his eminent career, his presence was the occasion 
there of marked homage. Esjiecially was this true in Eng- 
land, where he received abundant social and civic honors. 
The University of Cambridge conferred on him the degree 
of Doctor of Laws, and Oxford gave him the title of 
Doctor of Civil Law the next year. An English reporter 
describes him as he appeared at Cambridge in the scarlet 
robes of an academic dignitary : — 

" The face was one which, I think, would have caught the 
spectator's glance even if his attention had not been called 
to it by the cheers which greeted Longfellow's appearance 
in the robes of an LL. D. Long white silken hair and a 
beard of patriarchal length and whiteness inclosed a young, 
fresh-colored countenance, with fine-cut features and deep- 
sunken eyes, overshadowed by massive black eyebrows. 
Looking at him, you had the feeling that the white head of 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xxix 

hair and beard were a mask put on to conceal a young 
man's face ; and that if the poet chose he could throw off 
the disguise, and appear as a man in the jjrime and bloom 
of life." 

VI. 

Mr. Longfellow returned to his home in the fall of 1869. 
During his absence The New England Tragedies had been 
published, and in 1872 came out The Divine Tragedy. 
At the same time the poet published his Christies, which 
consists of The Divine Tragedy, The Golden Legend, and 
The Neiv England Tragedies, as a consecutive trilogy, and 
it is to be regarded as the poet's most serious and profound 
undertaking. In the same year appeared also Three Books 
of Song, which contained the Second Day of Tales of a 
Wayside Inn, Judas Maccabceus, and a number of trans- 
lations. In 1874 was published Aftermath, which com- 
prised the completion of Tales of a Wayside Inn and the 
Third Flight of Birds of Passage. The Masque of 
Pandora and other poems followed in 1875. 

This volume contained the poem Morituri Salutamus, 
read by the poet at the gathering of his classmates upon 
the fiftieth anniversary of graduation at Bowdoin. The 
occasion was one of singular interest, and the fact that the 
poet had never publicly recited one of his poems except in 
the case of the Phi Beta Kappa poem at Harvard in 1833, 
gave a special value to the services in the plain church 
building at Brunswick. He expressed his relief when he 
found that he could read his poem from the pulpit, for, as 
he said, " Let me cover myself as much as possible ; I 
wish it might be entirely." In the same volume was The 
Hanging of the Crane, the delightful domestic poem which 
had been previously issued with abundant illustrations the 
year before, after it had been first printed in The New 
York Ledger, the poet receiving for its publication there 
the unprecedented sum of four thousand dollars. The 



XXX HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Masque of Pandora was adapted for the stage and set to 
music by Alfred Cellier, and brought out at the Boston 
Theatre in 1881. 

Shortly after the publication of this volume there began 
to appear a series of volumes, edited by Mr. Longfellow, 
entitled Poems of Places, which were published at inter- 
vals during the next four years, and extended to thirty-one 
volumes ; the woi'k of sifting and arranging these poems 
gave him an agreeable occupation, for he was always at 
home in the best poetry of the world. While the series 
was in progress he issued, in 1878, Keratnos a7id other 
Poems, which gathered up the poems which he had been 
publishing the past three yeai'S. It is noticeable that in 
these later volumes the sonnet held a conspicuous place. 
Among these is the touching one entitled A Navieless 
Grave, of which the origin is told by Mrs. Apphia How- 
ard : — 

" I found in 1864, on a torn scrap of the Boston Sat^ir- 
day Evening Gazette, a description of a burying - ground 
in Newport News, where on the head-board of a soldier 
might be read the words ' A Union Soldier mustered out,' 
and this was the only inscription. The correspondent told 
the brief story very effectively, and, knowing Mr. Long- 
fellow's intense patriotism and devotion to the Union, I 
thought it would impress him greatly. I knew also that 
the account would seem vital to him from the fact that his 
own son Charles was a Union soldier and severely wounded 
during the war. 

" After carefully pasting the broken bits together on 
a bit of cardboard I sent it to Mr. Longfellow by Mr. 
[G. W.] Greene, who did not think Longfellow would use 
it, for he declared ' a poet could not write to order.' In 
a few days Mr. LongfelloAv acknowledged it by a letter, 
which I did not at all expect, as follows : — 

" ' In the writing of letters, moi'e, perhaps, than in any- 
thing else, Shakespeare's words are true ; and 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xxxi 

' " The flighty purpose never is o'ertook 
Unless the deed go with it." 

For this reason, the touching incident you have sent me 
has not yet shaped itself poetically in my mind, as I hope 
it some day will. Meanwhile, I thank you most sincerely 
for bringing it to my notice, and I agree with you in think- 
ing it very beautiful.' " It was ten years and more before 
the sonnet was printed ; how long it may have lain in the 
poet's drawer we do not know. 

The last published volume was Ultima Thule, issued in 
1880, and containing a few melodious verses. A singular 
interest attaches to the volume. It is dedicated to his life- 
long friend George Washington Greene, whose tender dedi- 
cation to the poet of his life of his grandfather disclosed a 
little of the poet's inner life also. It touches upon the 
friendships of the jioet, that for Bayard Taylor and for the 
poet Dana, and it contains the lines Frdvi my Arm-Chair., 
which have set a precious seal upon the poet's relation to 
childhood. The origin of the poem is well known, but de- 
serves to be repeated. The poem The Village Blacksm/lth 
had been a great favorite, and visitors to Cambridge did not 
fail to seek the spreading chestnut under which the smithy 
once stood. The smithy disappeared several years ago ; but 
the tree remained until 1876, when the city government, 
with a prudent zeal which no remonstrance of the poet and 
his friends could divert, ordered it to be cut down, on the 
plea that its low branches endangered drivers upon high 
loads passing upon the road beneath it. 

The after-thought came to construct some memento of the 
tree for the poet, and the result was the presentation, upon 
the poet's seventy-second birthday, by the children of Cam- 
bridge, of a chair made from the wood of the tree. The' 
color is a dead black, the effect being produced by ebon- 
izing the wood. The upholstering of the arms and the cush- 
ion is in green leather. The casters are glass balls set in 
sockets. In the back of the chair is a circular piece of 



xxxii HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

carving, consisting of hoi-se-chestnut leaves and blossoms. 
Horse-chestnut leaves and burrs are presented in varied 
combinations at other points. Underneath the cushion is a 
brass j^late, on which is the following inscription : — 

To 

The Author 

of 

The Village Blacksmith 

This chair, made from the wood of the 

spreading chestuut-tree, 

is presented as 

An expression of gratefid regard and veneration 

by 

The Children of Cambridge, 

who with their friends join in best wishes 

and congratulations 

on 

This Anniversary, 

February 27, 1879. 

Around the seat, in raised German text, are the lines from 
the poem, — 

" And children coming home from school 
Look in at the open door ; 
And catch the burning sparks that fly 
Like chaff from a threshing floor." 

The poem From viy Arm-Chair was the poet's response 
to the gift. In 1880, when the city of Cambridge cele- 
brated the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the 
founding of the town, December 28th, there was a children's 
festival in the morning at Sanders Theatre, and the chair 
stood ])rominently on the platform, where the thousand 
school-children gathered could see it. The poem was read 
to them by Mr. Riddle, and, better than all, the poet him- 
self came forward, to the surprise of all who knew how 
absolute was his silence on public occasions, and standing, 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xxxiii 

the picture of beautiful old age, he spoke smilingly these 
few words to the delighted childi-en : — 

My dear Young Friends, — I do not rise to make an ad- 
dress to you, but to excuse myself from making one. I know 
the proverb says that he who excuses himself accuses himself, 
and I am willing on this occasion to accuse myself, for I feel 
very much as I suppose some of you do when you are suddenly 
called upon in your class-room, and are obliged to say that you 
are not prepared. I am glad to see your faces and to hear your 
voices. I am glad to have this opportunity of thanking you in 
prose, as I have already done in verse, for the beautiful present 
you made me some two years ago. Perhaps some of you have 
forgotten it, but I have not ; and I am afraid — yes, I am afraid 
— that fifty years hence, when you celebrate the three hundredth 
anniversary of this occasion, this day and all that belongs to it 
will have passed from your memory ; for an English philosopher 
has said that the ideas as well as children of our youth often die 
before us, and our minds represent to us tliose tombs to which 
we are approacliing, where, though the brass and marble remain, 
yet the inscriptions are effaced by time, and the imagery mould- 
ers away. 

The chair gave the children a proud feeling of proprie- 
torshiji in the poet, and hundreds of little boys and girls 
presented themselves at the door of the famous house. 
None were ever turned away, and pleasant memories will 
linger in the minds of those who boldly asked for the poet's 
hospitality, unconscious of the tax which they laid upon him. 
A pleasant story is told by Luigi Monti, who had for many 
years been in the habit of dining with the poet every Satur- 
day. One Christmas, as he was walking toward the house, 
he was accosted by^ a girl about twelve years old, who in- 
quired where Mr. Longfellow lived. He told her it was 
some distance down the street, but if she would walk along 
with him he would show her. When they reached the gate, 
she said, — 

" Do you think I can go into the yard ? " 

" Oh, yes," said Signor Monti. " Do you see the room 



xxxiv HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

on the left ? That is where Martha Washington held her 
receptions a hundred years ago. If you look at the win- 
dows on the right you will probably see a white-haired 
gentleman reading a i)aper. Well, that will be Mr. Long- 
fellow." 

The child looked gratified and happy at the unexpected 
pleasure of really seeing the man whose poems she said she 
loved. As Signer Monti drew near the house he saw Mr. 
Longfellow standing with his back against the window, his 
head out of sight. When he went in, the kind-hearted 
Italian said, — 

" Do look out of the window and bow to that little girl, 
who wants to see you very much." 

" A little girl wants to see me very much ? Where is 
she ? " He hastened to the door, and, beckoning with his 
hand, called out, " Come here, little girl ; come here, if you 
want to see me." She came forward, and he took her hand 
and asked her name. Then he kindly led her into the 
house, showed her the old clock on the stairs, the children's 
chair, and the various souvenirs which he had gathered. 
This was but one little instance of many. 

Indeed, it was not to children alone that he was kind. 
Numberless were the acts of courtesy which he showed not 
to the courteous only, but to those whom others would 
have turned away. " Bores of all nations," says INIr. Nor- 
ton, " especially of our own, persecuted him. His long-suf- 
fering ])atience was a wonder to his friends. It was, in 
truth, the sweetest charity. No man was ever before so 
kind to these moral mendicants. One day I ventured to 
remonstrate with him on his endurance of the persecutions 
of one of the worst of the class, who to lack of modesty 
added lack of honesty, — a wretched creature, — and when 
I had done he looked at me with a pleasant, reproving, 
humorous glance, and said, ' Charles, who would be kind to 
him if I were not ? ' It was enough." 

" I happened," says a writer, " to be often brought into 



LIFE AND WRITINGS. xxxv 

contact with a very intelligent but cynical and discontented 
laboring man, who never lost an opportunity of railing 
against the rich. To such men wealth and poverty are 
the only distinctions in life. In one of his denunciations I 
heard him say, ' I will make an exception of one rich man, 
and that is Mr. Longfellow. You have no idea how much 
the laboring men of Cambridge think of him. There is 
many and many a family that gets a load of coal from Mr. 
Longfellow, without anybody knowing where it comes from.' 
. . . The people of Cambridge delighted in Mr. Longfel- 
low's loyalty to the town of his residence and its society. 
They could not fail to be gratified that he and his family 
did not seek the society of the neighboring metropolis, or 
rather usually declined its solicitations, and preferred the 
simjjle and familiar ways and old friends of the less preten- 
tious suburban community. Nothing could be more charm- 
ing than tlie apparently absolute unconsciousness of distinc- 
tion which pervaded the intercourse of Mr. Longfellow and 
his family with Cambridge society." 

The title of Ultima Thule was a tacit confession that the 
poet had reached the border of earth, but the last poem in 
the volume. The Poet and his Sonz/s, was a truer confes- 
sion that the singer must sing when the songs come to him ; 
and thus from time to time, in the last year of his life, Mr. 
Longfellow uttered his poems, reading the proof, indeed, of 
one, Mad River, but a few days before his death, the poem 
appearing in the May number of The Atlaiitic. 

As the seventy-fifth anniversary of the poet's birth drew 
near, there was a spontaneous movement throughout the 
country looking to the celebration of the day, especially 
among the school-children. The recitation of his poems by 
thousands of childish voices was the happiest possible form 
of honoring him. In his own city of Cambridge all the 
schools thus remembered him, and numberless schools in 
the "West and South also took the same form of celebra- 
tion ; while the Historical Society which had its home in hia 



XXX vi HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 

birthplace held a meeting, and its members gave themselves 
up to pleasant reminiscences of the poet. 

He had been confined to the house for several weeks be- 
fore his last sickness, but in the warm days of early spring 
had ventured upon his veranda. A neighbor recalls the 
pretty sight of the gray-haired poet playing with his little 
grandchild one day in March. It was not until Monday, 
March 20th, that the fatal illness caused serious alarm ; 
and on Friday, the 24th, the bells tolled his death. His 
neighbors and the whole community showed their solicitude 
in those few days. The very children were heard to say, 
as they passed his gate, " We must tread gently, for Mr. 
Longfellow is very sick." The message of his death was 
sent round the world, and probably not a journal in Chris- 
tendom but had some words, few or many, in regret and 
honor, upon receipt of the news. On Sunday, March 2C, 
1882, he was buried from his home, where his family and a 
few of his nearest friends were gathered. He was laid in 
Mount Auburn Cemetery, in Cambridge; and that after- 
noon Appleton Chapel, of Harvard University, was opened 
for a simple memorial service, thronged by a silent multi- 
tude, who listened to the tender discourse of two of the 
college clergy, to the hymns of the college choir, and to the 
consolation of the sacred Scriptures. 



1.0NGFELL0W IN HOME LIFE. 

BY ALICE M. LONGFELLOW. 

Many people are full of poetry without, perhaps, recog- 
nizing it, because they have no power of expression. Some 
have, unfortunately, full power of expression, with no depth 
or richness of thought or character behind it. With Mr. 
Longfellow, there was complete unity and harmony between 
his life and character and the outward manifestation of this 
in his poetry. It was not worked out from his brain, but 
was the blossoming of his inward life. 

His nature was thoroughly poetic and rhythmical, full of 
delicate fancies and thoughts. Even the ordinary details 
of existence were invested with charm and thoughtfulness. 
There was really no line of demarcation between his life 
and his poetry. One blended into the other, and his daily 
life was poetry in its truest sense. The rhythmical quality 
showed itself in an exact order and method, running through 
every detail. This was not the precision of a martinet ; but 
anything out of place distressed him, as did a faulty rhyme 
or defective metre. 

His library was carefully arranged by subjects, and, 
altliough no catalogue was ever made, he was never at a 
loss where to look for any needed volume. His books were 
deeply beloved and tenderly handled. Beautiful bindings 
were a great delight, and the leaves were cut with the 
utmost care and neatness. Letters and bills were kept in 
the same orderly manner. The latter were paid as soon as 
rendered, and he always personally attended to those in Die 
Tieighborhood. An unpaid bill weighed on him like a night- 



XXX vm HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

mare. Letters were answered day by day, as they accumu- 
lated, although it became often a weary task. He never 
failed, I think, to keep his account books accurately, and he 
also used to keep the bank books of the servants in his 
employment, and to lielp them with their accounts. 

Consideration and thoughtfulness for others were strong 
characteristics with Mr. Longfellow. He, indeed, carried it 
too far, and became almost a prey to those he used to call 
the " total strangers," whose demands for time and help were 
constant. Fortunately he was able to extract much interest 
and entertainment from the different types of humanity that 
were always coming on one pretext or another, and his 
genuine sympathy and quick sense of humor saved the situ- 
ation from becoming too wearing. This constant drain was, 
however, very great. His unselfishness and courtesy pre- 
vented him from showing the weariness of spu"it he often 
felt, and many valuable hours were taken out of his life by 
those with no claim, and no appreciation of what they were 
doing. 

In addition to the " total strangers " was a long line of 
applicants for aid of every kind. " His house was known 
to all the vagrant train," and to all he was equally genial 
and kind. There was no change of voice or manner in 
talking with the humblest member of society ; and I am 
inclined to think the friendly chat in Italian with the organ- 
grinder and the little old woman peddler, or the discussions 
with the old Irish gardener, were quite as full of pleasure as 
more important conversations with travelers from Elurope. 

One habit Mr. Longfellow always kept up. Whenever 
he saw in a newspaper any pleasant notice of friends or 
acquaintances, a review of a book, or a subject in which 
they were interested, he cut it out, and kept the scraps in 
an envelope addressed to the person, and mailed them when 
several had accumulated. 

He was a great foe to procrastination, and believed in 
attending to everything without delay. In connection with 



HOME LIFE. xxxix 

this I may say, that when he accepted the invitation of his 
classmates to deliver a poem at Bowdoin College on the 
fiftieth anniversary of their graduation, he at once devoted 
himself to the work, and the poem was finished several 
months before the time. During these months he was ill 
with severe neuralgia, and if it had not been for this habit 
of early preparation tlie j)oem would probably never have 
been written or delivered. 

Society and hospitality meant something quite real to Mr. 
Longfellow. I cannot remember that there were ever any 
formal or obligatory occasions of entertainment. All who 
came were made welcome without any special preparation, 
and without any thought of personal inconvenience. 

Mr. Longfellow's knowledge of foreign languages brought 
to him travelers from every country, — not only literary 
men, but public men and women of every kind, and, during 
the stormy days of European jjolitics, great numbers of for- 
eign patriots exiled for their liberal opinions. As one Eng- 
lishman pleasantly remarked, " There are no ruins in your 
country to see, Mr. Longfellow, and so we thought we would 
come to see you." 

Mr. Longfellow was a true lover of peace in every way, 
and held war in absolute abhorrence, as well as the taking 
of life in any form. He was strongly opposed to capital 
punishment, and was filled with indignation at the idea of 
men finding sport in hunting and killing dumb animals. 
At the same time he was quickly stirred by any story of 
wrong and oppression, and ready to give a full measure of 
help and sympathy to any one struggling for freedom and 
liberty of thought and action. 

With political life, as such, Mr. Longfellow was not in 
full sympathy, in spite of his life-long friendship with 
Charles Sumner. That is to say, the principles involved 
deeply interested him, but the methods displeased him. He 
felt that the intense absorption in one line of thought pre- 
vented a full development, and was an enemy to many of 



xl HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

the most beautiful and important things in life. He consid- 
ered that his part was to cast his weight with what seemed 
to him the best elements in public life, and he never omitted 
the duty of expressing his ojiinion by his vote. He always 
went to the polls the first thing in the morning on election 
day, and let nothing interfere with this. He used to say 
laughingly that he still belonged to the Federalists. 

Mr. Longfellow came to Cambridge to live in 1837, when 
he was thirty years old. He was at that time professor 
of literature in Harvard College, and occupied two rooms 
in the old house then owned by the widow Craigie, formerly 
Washington's Headcpiarters. In this same old house he 
passed the remainder of his life, being absent only one year 
in foreign travel. Home had great attractions for him. He 
cared more for the quiet and repose, the comjjanionsliip of 
his friends and books, than for the fatigues and adventures 
of new scenes. Many of the friends of his youth were the 
friends of old age, and to them his house was always open 
with a warm welcome. 

Mr. Longfellow was always full of reserve, and never 
talked much about himself or his work, even to his family. 
Sometimes a volume would appear in print, without his hav- 
ing mentioned its preparation. In spite of his general inter- 
est in people, only a few came really close to his life. With 
these he was always glad to go over the early days passed 
together, and to consult with them about literary work. 

The lines descriptive of the Student in the Wayside Inn 
might apply to Mr. Longfellow as well : — 

" A youth was there, of qiiiet ways, 
A Student of old books and days. 
To whom all tongues and lands were known, 
And yet a lover of his own ; 
With many a social virtue graced. 
And yet a friend of solitude ; 
A man of such a genial mood 
The heart of all things he emhraced, 
And yet of such fastidious taste, 
He never found the best too good." 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE. 

HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 

The country now known as Nova Scotia, and called 
formerly Acadie by the French, was in the hands of the 
French and English by turns until the year 1713, when, by 
the Peace of Utrecht, it was ceded by France to Great Brit- 
ain, and has ever since remained in the possession of the 
English. But in 1713 the inhabitants of the peninsula were 
mostly French farmers and fishermen, living about Minas 
Basin and on Annapolis River, and the English government 
exercised only a nominal control over them. It was not till 
1749 that the English themselves began to make settlements 
in the country, and that year they laid the foundations of 
the town of Halifax. A jealousy soon sprang uj) between 
the English and French settlers, which was deepened by the 
great conflict which was impending between the two mother 
countries ; for the treaty of peace at Aix-la-Chapelle in 
1748, which confirmed the English title to Nova Scotia, was 
scarcely more than a truce between the two powers which 
had been struggling for ascendency during the beginning 
of the century. The French engaged in a long controversy 
with the English respecting the boundaries of Acadie, which 
had been defined by the treaties in somewhat general terms, 
and intrigues were carried on with the Indians, who were 
generally in sympathy with the French, for the annoyance 
of the English settlers. The Acadians were allied to the 
French by blood and by religion, but they claimed to have 
the rights of neutrals, and that these rights had been 



2 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

granted to them by previous English ofi&cers of the crown. 
The one point of special dispute was the oath of allegiance 
demanded of the Acadians by the English. This they re- 
fused to take, except in a form modified to excuse them 
from bearing arms against the French. The demand was 
repeatedly made, and evaded with constant ingenuity and 
persistency. Most of the Acadians were probably simple* 
minded and peaceful people, who desired only to live imdis- 
turbed upon their farms ; but there were some restless spir- 
its, especially among the young men, who compromised the 
reputation of the community, and all were very much under 
the influence of their priests, some of whom made no secret 
of their bitter hostility to the English, and of their deter- 
mination to use every means to be rid of them. 

As the English interests grew and the critical relatiqns 
between the two countries approached open warfare, tho 
question of how to deal with the Acadian problem became 
the commanding one of the colony. There were some who 
coveted the rich farms of tli,e Acadians ; there were some 
who were inspired by religious hatred ; but the prevailing 
spirit was one of fear for themselves from the near presence 
of a community which, calling itself neutral, might at any 
time offer a convenient ground for hostile attack. Yet to 
require these people to withdraw to Canada or Louisburg 
would be to strengthen the hands of the French, and make 
these neutrals determined enemies. The colony finally re- 
solved, without consulting the home government, to remove 
the Acadians to other parts of North America, distributing 
them through the colonies in such a way as to preclude any 
concert amongst the scattered families by which they should 
return to Acadia. To do this required quick and secret 
preparations. There were at the service of the Enghsh 
governor a number of New England troops, brought thither 
for the capture of the forts lying in the debatable land about 
the head of the Bay of Fundy. These were under the com- 
mand of Lieutenant-Colonel John Winslow, of Massachu- 



INTRODUCTION TO EVANGELINE. 3 

setts, a great-grandson of Governor Edward WinsloAv, of 
Plymouth, and to this gentleman and Captain Alexander 
Murray was intrusted the task of removal. They were in- 
structed to use stratagem, if possible, to bring together the 
various families, but to prevent any from escaping to the 
woods. On the 2d of September, 1755, Winslow issued a 
written order, addressed to the inhabitants of Grand-Prd, 
Minas, River Canard, etc., " as well ancient as young men 
and lads," — a proclamation summoning all the males to 
attend him in the church at Grand-Pr^ on the 5th instant, 
to hear a communication which the governor had sent. As 
there had been negotiations respecting the oath of allegiance, 
and much discussion as to the withdrawal of the Acadians 
from the countiy, though none as to their removal and dis- 
persal, it was understood that this was an important meet- 
ing, and upon the day named four hundred and eighteen 
men and boys assembled in the church. Winslow, attended 
by his officers and men, caused a guard to be placed round 
the church, and then announced to the people his majesty's 
decision that they were to be removed with their families 
out of the country. The church became at once a guard- 
house, and all the prisoners were under strict surveillance. 
At the same time similar plans had been carried out at Pisi- 
quid under Captain Murray, and less successfully at Chig- 
necto. Meanwhile there were whispers of a rising among 
the prisoners, and although the transports which had been 
ordered from Boston had not yet arrived, it was determined 
to make use of the vessels which had conveyed the troops, 
and remove the men to these for safer keeping. This was 
done on the 10th of September, and the men remained on 
the vessels in the harbor until the arrival of the transports, 
when these were made use of, and about three thousand 
souls sent out of the country to North Carolina, Virginia, 
Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, and Mas- 
sachusetts. In the haste and confusion of sending them off, 
— ' a haste which was increased by the anxiety of the oflB.- 



4 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

cers to be rid of the distasteful business, and a confusion 
which was greater from the difference of tongues, — many 
families were separated, and some at least never came to- 
gether again. 

The story of Evangeline is the story of such a separation. 
The removal of the Acadians was a blot upon the govern- 
ment of Nova Scotia and upon that of Great Britain, which 
never disowned the deed, although it was probably done 
without direct permission or command from England. It 
proved to be unnecessary, but it must also be remembered 
that to many men at that time the English power seemed 
trembling before France, and that the colony at Halifax 
regarded the act as One of self-preservation. 

The authorities for an historical inquiry into this subject 
are best seen in a volume published by the government of 
Nova Scotia at Halifax in 1869, entitled Selections from 
the Public Documents of the Province of Nova SCotia, 
edited by Thomas B. Akins, D. C L., Commissioner of 
Public Records ; and in a manuscript journal kept by Col- 
onel Winslow, now in the cabinet of the Massachusetts His- 
torical Society in Boston. At the State House in Boston 
are two volumes of records, entitled French Neutrals, which 
contain voluminous papers relating to the treatment of the 
Acadians who were sent to Massachusetts. Probably the 
work used by the poet in writing Evangeline was An His- 
torical and Statistical Account of Nova Scotia, by Thomas 
C. Hallburton, who is best known as the author of The Clock- 
Maker, or The Sayings and Doings of Samuel Slick of 
Slickville, a book which, written apparently to prick the 
Nova Scotians into more enterprise, was for a long while the 
chief representative of Yankee smartness. Judge Halibur- 
ton's history was published in 1829. A later history, which 
takes advantage more freely of historical documents, is A 
History of Nova Scotia, or Acadie, by Beamish Murdock, 
Esq., Q. C, Halifax, 1866. Still more recent is a smaller, 
well-written work, entitled The History of Acadia from its 



INTRODUCTION TO EVANGELINE. 5 

First Discovery to its Surrender to England hy the Treaty 
of Paris, by James Hannay, St. John, N. B., 1879. W. J. 
Anderson published a paper in the Transactions of the Lit- 
erary and Historical Society of Quebec, New Series, part 7, 
1870, entitled Evangeline and the Archives of Nova Sco- 
tia, in which he examines the poem by the light of the vol- 
ume of Nova Scotia Archives, edited by T. B. Akins. The 
sketches of travellers in Nova Scotia, as Acadia, or a Montli 
among the Blue Noses, by F. S. Cozzens, and Baddeck, by 
C. D. Warner, give the present appearance of the country 
and inhabitants. 

HISTORY OF THE POEM. 

The origin of the tale brings out one of those interesting- 
incidents of the relations of authors toward each other which 
happily are not uncommon. In Hawthorne's American 
Note-Books, under date of October 24, 1838, occurs this 

paragraph : '' H. L. C • heard from a French Canadian 

a story of a young couple in Acadie. On their marriage 
day, all the men of the province were summoned to assem- 
ble in the church to hear a proclamation. When assem- 
bled, they were all seized and shipped off to be distributed 
through New England, among them the new bridegroom. 
His bride set off in search of him, wandered about New- 
England all her life-time, and at last, when she was old, 
she found her bridegroom on his death-bed. The shock 
was so great that it killed her likewise." 

It may have been the same H. L. C. who dined with 
Hawthorne at Mr. Longfellow's one day, and told the poet 
that he had been trying to persuade Hawthorne to write a 
story on this theme. Hawthorne said he could not see in 
it the material for a tale, but Longfellow at once caught at 
it as the suggestion for a poem. '* Give it to me," he said, 
'' and promise that you will not write about it until I have 
written the poem." Hawthorne readily consented, and 
when Evangeline appeared was as quick to give expression 



HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

to his admiration as the poet had been in reviewing 
Tivlce-Told Tales. He wrote to Longfellow and sent him 
a copy of a Salem newspaper in which he had noticed 
Evangeline. Longfellow replied : — 

My dear Hawthorne, — I have been waiting and waiting 
in the hope of seeing you in Cambridge. ... I have been medi- 
tating upon your letter, and pondering with friendly admiration 
your review of Evangeline, in connection with the subject of 
which, that is to say, the Acadiaus, a literary project arises in 
my mind for you to execute. Perhaps I can pay you back in 
part your own generous gift, by giving you a theme for story 
in return for a theme for song. It is neither more nor less than 
the history of the Acadians after their expulsion as well as before. 
Felton has been making some researches in the state archives, 
and offers to resign the documents into your hands. 

Pray come and see me about it without delay. Come so as to 
pass a night with us, if possible, this week, if not a day and 
night. Ever sincerely yours, Henry W. Longfellow. 

The poet never visited the scenes of his poem, though 
travellers have testified to the accuracy of the portraiture. 
" I have never been in Nova Scotia," he wrote to a friend. 
" As far as I remember, the authorities I mostly relied on in 
writing Evangeline were the Abb^ Raynal and Mr. Hali- 
burton : the first for the pastoral, simple life of the Aca- 
dians ; the second for the history of their banishment." 
He gave to a Philadelphia journalist a reminiscence of his 
first thought of the material which forms the conclusion of 
the poem. " I was passing down Spruce Street one day 
toward my hotel, after a walk, when my attention was at- 
tracted to a large building with beautiful trees about it, 
inside of a high inclosure. I walked along until I came to 
the great gate, and then stepped inside, and looked care- 
fully over the place. The charming picture of lawn, flower- 
beds, and shade which it presented made an impression 
which has never left me, and when I came to write Evange- 
line I placed the final scene, the meeting between Evangeline 



INTRODUCTION TO EVANGELINE. 1 

and Gabriel and the death, at the poov-house, and the burial 
in an old Catholic grave-yard not far away, which I found 
by chance in another of my walks." 

The poem made its way at once into the hearts of people. 
Faed, an English artist, painted a picture of Evangeline, 
taken from the face of a Manchester working-girl, which 
his brother engraved, and the picture became a great favor- 
ite on both continents. 

THE MEASURE. 

The measure of Evangeline is what is commonly known 
as English dactylic hexameter. The hexameter is the mea- 
sure used by Homer in the Iliad and the Odyssey, and by 
Virgil in the jEneid, but the difference between the Eng- 
lish language and the Latin or Greek is so great, especially 
when we consider that in English poetry every word must 
be accented according to its customary pronunciation, while 
in scanning Greek and Latin verse accent follows the quan- 
tity of the vowels, that in applying this term of hexame- 
ter to Evangeline it must not be supposed by the reader 
that he is getting the effect of Greek hexameters. It is the 
Greek hexameter translated into English use, and some 
have maintained that the verse of the Uiad is better repre- 
sented in the English by the ti'ochaic measure of fifteen syl- 
lables, of which an excellent illustration is in Tennyson's 
Locksley Hall ; others have compared the Greek hexameter 
to the ballad metre of fourteen syllables, used notably by 
Chapman in his translation of Homer's Iliad. The mea- 
sure adopted by Mr. Longfellow has never become very 
popular in English poetry, but has repeatedly been at- 
tempted by other poets. The reader will find the subject 
of hexameters discussed by Matthew Arnold in his lectures 
On Translating Homer ; by James Spedding in English 
Hexameters, in his recent volume, Reviews and Discus- 
sions, Literary, Political and Historical, not relating to 
Bacon ; and by John Stuart Blackie in Remarks on Eng- 



8 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

lish Hexameters, contained in his volume Hone Hellenlcce. 
The pubhcation of Evangelme had much to do with the 
revival of the use of the hexameter in English poetry, 
notably by Arthur Hugh Clough, who employed it with 
great skill in his pastoral poem of the Botkie of Tobev-na- 
Vuolich. In a letter to Ralph Waldo Emerson, Clough 
writes, " AVill you convey to Mr. Longfellow the fact that 
it was a reading of his Evangeline aloud to my mother 
and sister, which, coming after a reperusal of the Iliad, 
occasioned this outbreak of hexameters ? " 

The measure lends itself easily to the lingering melan- 
choly which marks the greater part of the poem, and the 
poet's fine sense of harmony between subject and form is 
rarely better shown than in this poem. The fall of the 
verse at the end of the line and the sharj) recovery at the 
beginning of the next will be snares to the reader, who 
must beware of a jerking style of delivery. The voice nat- 
urally seeks a rest in the middle of the line, and this rest, 
or csesural pause, should be carefully regarded ; a little 
practice will enable oire to acquire that habit of reading the 
hexameter, which we may liken, roughly, to the climbing of 
a hill, resting a moment on the summit, and then descend- 
ing the other side. The charm in reading Evangeline 
aloud, after a clear understanding of the sense, which is the 
essential in all good reading, is found in this gentle labor of 
the former half of the line, and gentle acceleration of the 
latter half. 



EVANGELINE. 

PRELUDE. 

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines 
and the hemlocks, 

Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct 
in the twilight. 

Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and pro- 
phetic, 

1. A primeval forest is, strictly speaking, one which has never 
been disturbed by the axe. Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, remark- 
ing on this opening of the poem, says : " From the first line of 
the poem, from its first words, we read as we would float down 
a broad and placid river, murmuring softly against its banks, 
heaven over it, and the glory of the unspoiled wilderness all 
around. 

" ' This is the forest primeval.' 

The words are already as familiar as 

or 

Arma virumque cano. 

The hexameter has been often criticised, but I do not believe 
any other measure could have told that lovely story with such 
effect as we feel when carried along the tranquil current of 
these brimming, slow-moving, soul-satisfying lines. Imagine 
for one moment a story like this minced into octosyllabics. The 
poet knows better than his critics the length of step which best 
fits his muse." 

3. Druids were priests of the Celtic inhabitants of ancient 
Gaul and Britain. The name was probably of Celtic origin, but 
its form may have been determined by the Greek word drus, an 
oak, since their places of worship were consecrated groves of 
oak. Perhaps the choice of the image was governed by the 
analogy of a religion and tribe that were to disappear before a 
stronger power. 



10 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their 
bosoms. 

Loud from its rocky caverns, the deei)-voiced neigh- 
boring ocean 5 

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail 
of the forest. 

This is the forest primeval ; but where are the 
hearts tha^j beneath it 

Leaped like the voe, when he hears in the woodland 
the voice of the huntsman ? 

Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Aca- 
dian farmers, — 

Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the 
woodlands, 10 

Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image 
of heaven ? 

Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers for- 
ever departed ! 

Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts 
of October 

Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them 
far o'er the ocean. 

Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village 
of Grand-Pre. is 

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and enduresj 
and is patient, 

4. A poetical description of an ancient harper will be found 
in the Introduction to the Lay of the Last Minstrel, by Sir Waiter 
Scott. 

8. Observe how the tragedy of the story is anticipated by this 
picture of the startled roe. 



EVANGELINE. 11 

Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's 

devotion, 
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines 

of the forest ; 
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happjc 



PART THE FIRST. 



In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of 

Minas, 2e 

Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre 
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched 

to the eastward, 
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks 

without number. 
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with 

labor incessant, 

19. In the earliest records Acadie is called Cadie ; it after- 
wards was called Arcadia, Accadia, or L'Acadie. The name is 
probably a French adaptation of a word common among the 
Micmac Indians living there, signifying place or region, and used 
as an affix to other words as indicating the place where various 
things, as cranberries, eels, seals, were found in abundance. The 
French turned this Indian term into Cadie or Acadie ; the Eng= 
lish into Quoddy, in which form it remains when applied to the 
Quoddy Indians, to Quoddy Head, the last point of the United 
States next to Acadia, and in the compound Passamaquoddy, or 
Pollock-Ground. 

21. Compare, for effect, the first line of Goldsmitn's The 
Traveller. Grand-Pr^ will be found on the map as part of the 
township of Horton. 

24. The people of Acadia are mainly the descendants of the 
colonists who were brought out to La Have and Port Royal by 
Isaac de Razilly and Charnisay between the years 1633 and 1638. 



12 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Shut out the turbulent tides ; but at stated seasons the 

flood-gates 2,^ 

Opened and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er 

the meadows. 
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards 

and cornfields 
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain ; and away 

to the northward 
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the 

mountains 
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty 

Atlantic so 

Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their sta- 
tion descended. 
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian 

village. 
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and 

of hemlock, 
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign 

of the Henries. 

These colonists came from Roebelle, Saintouge, aud Poitou, so 
that they were drawn from a very limited area on the west coast 
of France, covered by the modern departments of Vendue and 
Charente Inf^rieure. This circumstance had some influence on 
their mode of settling the lands of Acadia, for they came from a 
country of marshes, where the sea was kept out by artificial 
dikes, and they found in Acadia similar marshes, which they dealt 
with in the same way that they had been accustomed to practise 
in France. Hannay's History of Acadia, pp. 282, 283. An excel- 
lent account of dikes and the flooding of lowlands, as practised 
in Holland, may be found in A Farmer''s Vacation, by George E. 
Waring, Jr. 

29. Blomidon is a mountainous headland of red sandstone, sur- 
mounted by a perjjendicular wall of basaltic trap, the whole about 
four hundred feet in height, at the entrance of the Basin of 
Minas. 



EVANGELINE. 13 

Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows ; and 
gables projecting 35 

Over the basement below protected and shaded the 
doorway. 

There in the tranquil evenings of summer, wheo 
brightly the sunset 

Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the 
chimneys. 

Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in 
kirtles 

Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the 
golden 40 

Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles 
within doors 

Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and 
the songs of the maidens. 

Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and 
the children 

Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to 
bless them. 

Reverend walked he among them ; and up rose ma- 
trons and maidens, 45 

Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate 
welcome 

Then came the laborers home from tne field, and se- 
renely the sun sank 

36. The characteristics of a Normandy village may be further 
learned by reference to a pleasant little sketch-book, published 
a few years since, called Normandy Picturesque, by Henry Black- 
burn, and to Through Normandy, by Katharine S. Macquoid. 

39. The term kirtle was sometimes applied to the jacket only, 
sometimes to the train or upper petticoat attached to it. A full 
kirtle was always both ; a half kirtle was a term applied to 
either. A man's jacket was sometimes called a kirtle ; here the 
reference is apparently to the full kirtle worn by women. 



14 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from 

the belfry 
Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of the 

village 
Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense 

ascending, sc 

Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and 

contentment. 
Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian 

farmers, — 
Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were 

they free from 
Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice 

of republics. 
Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their 

windows ; 55 

But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts 

of the owners ; 
There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in 

abundance. 

Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the 

Basin of Minas, 
Benedict Belief outaine, the wealthiest farmer of 

Grand-Pie, 
Dwelt on his goodly acres ; and with him, directing 

his household, ec 

Gentle Evangeline lived, his. child, and the pride of 

the village. 

49. Angelus Domini is the full name given to the bell which, at 
morning, noon, and night, called the people to prayer, in com- 
memoration of the visit of the angel of the Lord to the Virgin 
Mary. It was introduced into France in its modern form in the 
sixteenth century. 



EVANGELINE. 15 

Stalworth and stately in form was the man of seventy 

winters ; 
Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with ' 

snow-flakes ; 
White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as 

brown as the oak-leaves. 
Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen sum- 
mers ; 65 
Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the 

thorn by the wayside, 
Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown 

shade of her tresses ! 
Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed 

in the meadows. 
When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at 

noontide 
Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was the 

maiden. 7o 

Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell 

from its turret 
Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with 

his hj'ssop 
Sprinkles the congrega,tion, and scatters blessings upon 

them, 
Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of 

beads and her missal. 
Wearing her Norman cap and her kirtle of blue, and 

the ear-rings 7s 

Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as 

an heirloom. 
Handed down from mother to child, through long gen- 
erations. 
Bat a celestia". brightness — a more ethereal beauty — - 
Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, after 

confession, 



It) HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Homeward serenely she walked with God's benedic- 
tion upon her. so 
{^ When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of 
exquisite music.,/ 

Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of 

the farmer 
Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea : and 

a shady 
Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreath- 
ing around it. 
Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath ; and 

a footpath ss 

Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the 

meadow. 
Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung by a 

penthouse. 
Such as the traveller sees in regions remote by the 

roadside. 
Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of 

Mary. 
Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well 

with its moss-grown so 

Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for 

the horses. 
Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were 

the barns and the farm-yard ; 
There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique 

ploughs and the harrows ; 
There were the folds for the sheep ; and there, in his 

feathered seraglio, 

93. The accent is on the first syllable of antique, where it re- 
mains in the form antic, which once had the same general mean' 
iug. 



EVANGELINE. 17 

Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, with 
the selfsame 95 

Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent 
Peter. 

Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a vil- 
lage. In each one 

Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch ; and a 
staircase. 

Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous corn- 
loft. 

There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and inno- 
cent inmates 100 

Murmuring ever of love ; while above in the variant 
breezes 

Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of 
mutation. 

Thus, at peace with God and the world, the farmer 

of Grand-Pre 
Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline governed 

his household. 
Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened 

his missal, 105 

Fixed his eyes upon her as the saint of his deepest 

devotion ; 

99. Odorous. The accent here, as well as iu line 403, is upon 
the first syllable, where it is commonly placed ; but Milton, who 
of all poets had the most refined ear, writes 
" So from the root 
Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves 
More airy, last the bright consummate flower 
Spirits odorous breathes." 

Par Losf, Book V., lines 479-482. 

But he also uses the more familiar accent in other passages, 
as, " An amber scent of ddorous perfume," in Samson Agonistes^ 
line 720. 



18 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem 
of her garment ! 

Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness be- 
friended, 

And, as he knocked and waited to hear the sound of 
her footsteps, 

Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or the 
knocker of iron ; uo 

Or, at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of the vil- 
lage, 

Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as he 
whispered 

Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the 
music. 

But among all who came young Gabriel only was 
welcome ; 

Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the black- 
smith, 115 

Who was a mighty man in the village, and honored 
of all men ; 

For since the birth of time, throughout all ages and 
nations. 

Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by the 
people. 

Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from 
earliest childhood 

Grew up together as brother and sister ; and Father 
Felician, i2t) 

Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught 
them their letters 

Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the 
church and the plain-song. 
122. The plain-song is a monotonic recitative of the collects. 



EVANGELINE. 19 

But when the hymn was sung, and the daily lesson 

completed, 
Swiftly they hurried away to the foi'ge of Basil the 

blacksmith. 
There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to 

behold him 125 

Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a 

plaything, 
Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him the tire 

of the cart-wheel 
Lay like a fiery snake^ coiled round in a circle of 

cinders. 
Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering 

darkness 
Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through every 

cranny and crevice, 130 

Warm by the forge within they watched the laboring 

bellows, 
And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired in 

the ashes. 
Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into 

the chapel. 
Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the 

eagle, 
Down the hillside bounding, they glided away o'er the 

meadow. 135 

Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests 

on the rafters,' 
Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, which 

the swallow 
Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight 

of its fledglings ; 

133. The French have another saying similar to this, that they 
were guests going in to the wedding. 



20 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of the 

swallow ! 
Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer 

were children, uc 

He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face of 

the morning, 
Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened 

thought into action. 
She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a 

woman. 
" Sunshine of Saint Eulalie " was she called ; for that 

was the sunshine 
Which, as the farmers believed, would load their 

orchards with apples ; 145 

She too would bring to her husband's house delight 

and abundance. 
Filling it with love and the ruddy faces of childr-en. 

II. 

Now had the season returned, when the nights grow 
colder and longer. 
And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion en- 
ters. 

139. In Pluquet's Contes Populaires we are told that if one of 
a swallow's young is blind the mother bird seeks on the shore of 
the ocean a little stone, with which she restores its sight ; and 
he adds, " He who is fortunate enough to find that stone in a 
swallow's nest holds a wxinderful remedy." Pluquet's book 
treats of Norman superstitions and popular traits. 

144. Pluquet also gives this proverbial saying : — 

" Si le soleil rit le jour Sainte-Eulalie, 
n y aura pommes et cidre a folie." 

(If the sun smiles on Saint Eulalie's day, there will be plenty 
of apples, and cider enough.) 

Saint Eulalie's day is the 12tb of Febraaxy. 



EVANGELINE. 21 

Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from 
the ice-bound, iso 

Desolate northern bays to the shores of tro|)ical is- 
lands. 

Harvests were gathered in ; and wild with the winds 
of September 

VTrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with 
the angel. 
TAII the signs foretold a winter long and inclement. 

Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded 
their honey 155 

Till the hives overflowed ; and the Indian hunters as- 
serted 

Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the 
foxes. 

Such was the advent of autumn, i Then followed that 
beautiful season. 

Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of 
All-Saints ! 

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light ; 
and the landscape leo 

Lay as if new-created m all the freshness of child- 
hood. 

Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless 
heart of the ocean 

Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in 
harmony blended. 

Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the 
farm-yards, 

159. The Summer of All-Saints is our Indian Summer, A' .- 
Saints Day being November 1st. The French also give this sea- 
son the name of Saint Martin's Summer, Saint Martin's Day 
being November 11th. 



22 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of 

pigeons, - les 

All were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, 

and the great sun 
Looked with the eye of love through the golden va 

pors around him ; 
While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet anc 

yellow, 
Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree 

of the forest 
Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with 

mantles and jewels. no 

Now recommenced the region of rest and affection 
and stillness. 
( Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twi- 
light descending 

Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the 
herds to the homestead, j 

Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks 
on each other. 

And with their nostrils distended inhaling the fresh- 
ness of evening. its 

Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful 
heifer. 

Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that; 
waved from her collar. 

Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of humar 
affection. 

170. Herodotus, in his account of Xerxes' expedition against 
Greece, tells of a beautiful plane-tree which Xerxes found, and 
was so enamored with that he dressed it as one might a woman, 
and placed it under the care of a guardsman (vii. 31). Anothet 
writer, ^lian, improving on this, says he adorned it with a neck- 
lace and bracelets. 



EVANGELINE. 23 

Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks 
from the seaside, 

Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them fol- 
lowed the watch-dog, iso 

Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of 
his instinct, 

Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and 
superbly 

Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the strag- 
glers ; 

Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept; 
their protector, 

When from the forest at night, through the starry 
silence, the wolves howled. i85 

Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from 
the marshes. 

Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor. 

Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes 
and their fetlocks. 

While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and pon- 
derous saddles. 

Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels 
of crimson, 190 

Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with 
blossoms. 

Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their 
udders 

Unto the milkmaid's hand ; whilst loud and in regular 
cadence 

193. There is a charming milkmaid's song in Tennyson's drama 
of Queen Mary, Act III., Scene 5, where the streaming of the 
milk into the sounding pails is caught in the tinkling k's of ,'iuch 
lines as 

"And you came and kissed rae milking the cow.'' 



24 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets de- 
scended. 

Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in 
the farm-yard, wi 

Echoed back by the barns. Anos they sank into 
stillness ; 

Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of tht 
barn-doors, 

Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent. 

^ In^doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly 
the farmer 

Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the flames 
and the smoke-wreaths 200 

Struggled together like foes in a bui-ning city. Be- 
hind him. 

Nodding and mocking along the ',»^all with gestures 
fantastic. 

Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished aw^ay into 
darkness. 

Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his arm- 
chair 

Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates 
on the dresser 205 

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies 
the sunshine. 

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of 
Christmas, 

Sucli as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before 
him 

Sang in their Norman oi'chards and bright Burgundian 
vineyards. 

Close at her father's 'side was the gentle Evangeline 
seated, 2x0 



EVANGELINE. 26 

Spinning flax for the loom that stood in the corner 

behind her. 
Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its diligent 

shuttle, 
While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the 

drone of a bagpipe, 
Followed the old man's song, and united the fragments 

together. 
As in a church, when the chant of the choir at inter- 
vals ceases, 215 
Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest 

at the altar. 
So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion 

the clock clicked. 

Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, 

suddenly lifted. 
Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back 

on its hinges. 
Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was Basil 

the blacksmith, 220 

And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was 

with him. 
" Welcome ! " the farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps 

paused on the threshold, 
" Welcome, Basil, my friend ! Come, take thy place 

on the settle 
dose by the chimney-side, which is always empty 

without thee ; 
Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of 

tobacco ; 225 

Never so much thyself art thou as when, through the 

curling 
Smoke of the pipe or the forge, thy friendly and jovial 

face gleams 



26 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist 

of the marshes." 
Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the 

blacksmith, 
Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fire 

side : — 23{ 

" Benedict Belief ontaine, thou hast ever thy jest anc* 

thy ballad ! 
Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou, when others are 

filled with 
Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before 

them. 
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up 

a horseshoe.'^ 
Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evangeline 

brought him, 235 

And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he 

slowly continued : — 
" Four days now are passed since the English ships 

at their anchors 
Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon 

pointed against us. 
What their design may be is unknown ; but all are 

commanded 
On the morrow to meet in the church, where his 

Majesty's mandate 240 

Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas ! in the 

mean time 
Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the peo- 

pie." 
Then made answer the fainiier : — " Perhaps some 

friendlier purpose 

239. The text of Colonel Winslow's proclamation will be found 
in Haliburton, i. 175. 



EVANGELINE. 27 

Brings these ships to our shores. Jt'erhaps the har- 
vests in England 

By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been 
blighted, 245 

And from our bursting barns they would feed their 
cattle and children." 

** Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said warmly 
the blacksmith, 

Shaking his head as in doubt ; then, heaving a sigh, 
he continued : — 

" Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor 
Port Koyal. 

Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on its 
outskirts, 250 

Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of to- 
morrow. 

Arms have been taken from us, and wai'like weapons 
of all kinds ; 

Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the 
scythe ot the mower." 

Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial 
farmer : — 

249. Louisburg, on Cape Breton, was built by the French as a 
military and naval station early in the eighteenth century, but 
was taken by an expedition from Massachusetts under General 
Pepperell in 1745. It was restored by England to France in the 
treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, and recaptured by the English in 
1757. Beau Sejour was a French fort upon the neck of land 
connecting Acadia with the mainland which had just been cap- 
tured by Winslow's forces. Fort Royal, afterwards called Anna- 
polis Royal, at the outlet of Annapolis River into the Bay of 
Fundy, had been disputed ground, being occupied alternately by 
French and English, but in 1710 was attacked by an expedition 
from New England, and after that held by the English govern- 
ment and made a fortified place. 



28 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks 

and our cornfields, 255 

Safer within these peaceful dikes besieged by the ocean. 
Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's 

cannon. 
Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no shadow 

of sorrow 
Fail on this house and hearth ; for this is the night 

of the contract. 
Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads of 

the village 260 

Strongly have built them and well ; and, breaking the 

glebe round about them, 
Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for 

a twelvemonth. 
Rend Leblanc wiD be here anon, with his papers and 

inkhorn. 
Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy of 

our children ? " 
As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in 

her lover's, zej- 

Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father 

had spoken, 
And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary en- 
tered. 

III. 

Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of 
the ocean, 

267. A notary is an officer authorized to attest contracts or 
writings of any kind. His authority varies in different coun- 
tries ; in France he is the necessary maker of all contracts where 
the subject-matter exceeds 150 francs, and his instruments, 
which are preserved and registered by himself, are the origi- 
nals, the parties preserving only copies. 



EVANGELINE. 29 

Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the no. 
tary public ; 

Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the 
maize, hung 270 

Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and 
glasses with horn bows 

Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom supernal 

Father of twenty children was he, and more than a 
hundred 

Children's children rode on his knee, and heard his 
great watch tick. 

Four long years in the times of the war had he lan- 
guished a captive, 275 

Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend of 
the English. 

Now, though warier grown, without all guile or sus- 
picion. 

Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and 
childlike. 

He was beloved by all, and most of all by the chil- 
dren ; 

For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the for- 
est, 280 

275. King George's War, which broke out in 1744 in Cape 
Breton, in an attack by the French upon an English garrison, 
and closed with the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle iu 1748 ; or, the 
reference may possibly be to Queen Anne's war, 1702-1713; 
when the French aided the Indians iu their warfare with the col- 
onists. 

280. The Loup-garou, or were-wolf, is, according to an old su- 
perstition especially prevalent in France, a man with power to 
turn himself into a wolf, which he does that he may devour chil- 
dren. In later times the superstition passed into the more inno 
cent one of men having a power to charm wolves. 



30 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

And of the goblin that came in the night to water the 

horses, 
And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who 

unchristened 
Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers 

of children ; 
And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the 

stable. 
And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in 

a nutshell, 285 

And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved clover 

and horseshoes. 
With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the village. 
Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the 

blacksmith. 
Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extend- 
ing his right hand, 
" Father Leblanc," he exclaimed,' " thou hast heard 

the talk in the village, 290 

And, perchance, canst tell us some news of these ships 

and their errand." 
Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary 

public, — 
"Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never 

the wiser ; 

282. Pluquet relates tliis superstition, and conjectures that the 
white, fleet ermine gave rise to it. 

284. A belief still lingers among the peasantry of England, as 
well as on the Continent, that at midnight, on Christmas eve, the 
cattle in the stalls fall down on their knees in adoration of the 
infant Saviour, as the old legend says was done in the stable at 
Bethlehem. 

285. In like manner a popular superstition prevailed in Eng- 
land that ague could be cured by sealing a spider in a goose* 
quill and hanging it about the neck. 



EVANGELINE. 31 

And what their errand may be I know no better than 

others. 
Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil inten- 
tion 295 
Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why then 

molest us ? " 
"God's name ! " shouted the hasty and somewhat iras= 

cible blacksmith ; 
" Must we in all things look for the how, and the why, 

and the wherefore ? 
Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the 

strongest ! " 
But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary 
public, — 300 

V " Man is unjust, but God is just ; and finally justice 
Triumphs ; and well I remember a story, that often 

consoled me. 
When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at 

Port Royal." 
This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved to 

repeat it 
When his neighbors complained that any injustice was 
done them. 305 

" Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer re- 
member. 
Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Justice 
Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in its 

left hand, 
And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice 

presided 
Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and homes 
of the people. 310 

302. This is an old Florentine story ; in an altered form it is 
the theme of Rossini's opera of La Gazza Ladra. 



32 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Even the birds had built their nests in the scales of 
the balance, 

Havino- no fear of the sword that flashed in the sun- 
shine above them. 

But in the course of time the laws of the land were 
corrupted ; 

Might took the place of right, and the weak were 
oppressed, and the mighty 

Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a noble- 
man's palace sis 

That a necldace of pearls was lost, and ere long a sus- 
picion 

Fell on an orphan girl who lived as a maid in the house- 
hold. 

She, after form of trial condemned to die on the scaf- 
fold, 

Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of 
Justice. 

As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit as- 
cended, 320 

Lo ! o'er the city a tempest rose ; and the bolts of the 
thunder 

Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from 
its left hand 

Down on the pavement below the clattering scales of 
the balance, 

A.nd in the hollow thereof was found the nest of a 
magpie, 

Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearls was 
inwoven." 325 

Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was ended, 
the blacksmith 

Stood like a man who fain would speak, but findeth 
no language ; 



EVANGELINE. 33 

All his thoughts were cotigealed into lines on his face, 

as the vapors 
Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes in the 

winter. 

Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the 
table, 330 

Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with 
home-brewed 

Nut-bvown ale, that was famed for its strength in the 
village of Grand-Pre ; 

While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and 
inkhorn, 

Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the 
parties. 

Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and 
in cattle. 335 

Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were 
completed, 

And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on 
the margin. 

Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on the 
table 

Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of sil- 
ver; 

And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and 
bridegroom, 340 

Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their 
welfare. 

Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed and 
departed. 

While in silence the others sat and mused by the fire- 
side, 



84 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out of its 

corner. 
Soon was the game begun. In friendly contention 

the old men 343 

Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful mancEuvre, 
Laughed when a man was crowned, or a bieach was 

made in the king-row. 
Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's 

embrasure. 
Sat the lovers and whispered together, beholding the 

moon rise 
Over tiie pallid sea and the silvery mists of the mead- 

, OWS. 350 

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, 
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the 
angels. 

Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell from 

the belfry 
Kang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and 

straightway 
Rose the guests and departed ; and silence reigned In 

the household. 355 

344. The word draughts is derived from the circumstance of 
drawing the men from one square to another. 

354. Curfew is a corruption of couvre-feu, or cover fire In 
tbe Middle Ages, when police patrol at night was almost un- 
known, it was attempted to lessen the chances of crime by mak- 
ing it an offence against the laws to be found in the streets iu 
tlie night, and the curfew bell wa-s tolled, at various hours, ac- 
cording to the custom of the place, from seven to nine o'clock in 
the evening. It warned honest people to lock their doors, covei 
their fires, and go to bed. The custom still lingers in many 
places, even in America, of ringing a bell at nine o'clock in the 
evening. 



EVANGELINE. 35 

Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the 

door-step 
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with 

gladness. 
Carefully then were covered the embeis that glowed^ 

on the hearth-stone, 
And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of the 

farmer. 
Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline fol- 

lowed. 360 

Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the dark- 
ness. 
Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the 

maiden. 
Silent she passed the hall, and entered the door of her 

chamber. 
Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, 

and its clothes-press 
Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were care- 
fully folded 365 
Linen and woollen stuffs, by the hand of Evangeline 

woven. 
This was the precious dower she would bring to her 

husband in marriage, 
Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skiU 

as a housewife. 
Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and 

radiant moonlight 
Streamed through the windows, and lighted the room. 

till the heart of the maiden 370 

Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides 

of the ocean. 
Ah! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she 

stood with 



56 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her 

chamber ! 
Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of the 

orchard, 
Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her 

lamj) and her shadow. 375 

Yei were her thoughts of him, and at times a feeling 

of sadness 
Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in 

the moonlight 
Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a 

moment. 
And, as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely 

the moon pass 
Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow 

her footsteps, sso 

As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered 

with Hagar. 

IV. 

Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village 

of Grand-Prc. 
Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of 

Minas, 
Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were 

riding at anchor. 
Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous 

labor 385 

Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates 

of the morning. 
Now from the country around, from the farms and 

neighboring hamlets, 
Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian 

peasants. 



EVANGELINE. 37 

Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the 
young folk 

Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numer- 
ous meadows, 390 

Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels 
in the greensward. 

Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on 
the highway. 

Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor were 
silenced. 

Thronged were the streets with people ; and noisy 
groups at the house-doors 

Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped to- 
gether. 395 

Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and 
feasted ; 

For with this simple people, who lived like brothers 
together, 

All things were held in common, and what one had 
was another's. 

Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more 
abundant : 

396. " Real misery was wholly miknown, and benevolence 
anticipated the demands of poverty. Every misfortune was re- 
lieved as it were before it could be felt, without ostentation on 
the one hand, and without meanness on the other. It was, in 
short, a society of brethren, every individual of which was 
squally ready to give and to receive what he thought the com- 
mon right of mankind." — From the Abb^ Raynal's account oi 
the Acadians. The Abbd Guillaume Thomas Francis Raynal 
was a French writer (1711-1796), who published A Philosophi- 
cal History of the Settlements and Trade of the Europeans in the 
East and West Indies, in which he included also some account of 
Canada and Nova Scotia. His picture of life among the Aca- 
dians, somewhat highly colored, is the source from which after 
writers have drawn their knowledge of Acadian manners. 



38 HENRY WADisWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

For Evangeline stood among the guests of hei 
father ; lou 

Bright was her face with smiles, and words of wel- 
come and gladness 

Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as 
she gave it. 

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the 
orchard, 

Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of be- 
trothal. 

There in the shade of the porch were the priest and 
the notary seated ; 405 

There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the black- 
smith. 

Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press and 
the beehives, 

Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of 
hearts and of waistcoats. 

Shadow and light from the leaves alternately played 
on his snow-white 

Hair, as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face of 
the fiddler 410 

Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown 
from the embers. 

Gayly the old man saug to the vibrant sound of his 
fiddle, 

Tous les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Carillon dt 

Dunkerque^ 

- I . 

413. Tous les Bourgeois de Chartres was a song written b^ 

Ducauroi, maitre de chapelle of Henri IV., the words of whicli 

are : — 

Voua connaissez Cybele, You remember Cybele, 

Qui sut fixer le Temps ; Wise tlie seasons to unfold ; 

On la (lisait fort belle, Very fair, said men, was she, 

MSme dans ses vieux acs. Even when her years grew old. 



EVANGELINE. 39 

And anon with bis wooden shoes beat time to the 

music. 
Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying 

dances ■ 415 

Under the orchard -trees and down the path to the 

meadows ; 
Old folk and young together, and children mingled 

among them. 
Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's 

daughter ! 
Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the 

blacksmith ! 

So passed the morning away. And lo ! with a sum- 
mons scmorous 420 

Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the mead- 
ows a drum beat. 

Thronged ere long was the church with men. With- 
out, in the churchyard. 



CHORUS. caacvBUs. 

Cette divinite, quoique deja grand'mere A grandame, yet by goddess birth 

Avait les yeux doux, le teiut frais, She kept sweet eyes, a color warm, 

Avait nigme certains attraita And held through everything a charm 

Fermes comme la Terre. Fast like the earth. 

Le Carillon de Dunkerque was a popular song to a tune played 
on the Dunkirk chimes. The words are : — 

Le Carillon de Dunkerque. The Carillon of Dunkirk. 

Imprudent, t^m^raire Reckless and rash, 

A I'instant, je I'espere Take heed for the flash 

Dans raon juste courroux. Of mine auger, "tis just 

Tu vas tomber sous mes coups ! To lay thee with its blows in the dust. 

— Je brave ta menace. — Your threat I defy. 

— Etre moi ! quelle audace ! — What ! You would be I ! 
Avance done, poltron I Come, coward ! I 'U show — 
Tu trembles ? non, non, nor. You tremble ? No, no ! 

— J'^touffe de colere ! — I 'm choking with rage ! 

— Je ris de ta colere. — A fig for your rage ! 

The music to which the old man sang these songs will be found 
in La Cle du Caveau, by Pierre Capelle, Nos. 664 and 739. 
Paris : A. Cotelle. 



40 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and 

hung on the headstones 
Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from 

the forest. 
Then came the guard from the ships, and marching 

proudly among them 425 

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant 

clangor 
Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling 

and casement, — 
Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous por- 
tal 
Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of 

the soldiers. 
Then uprose their commander, and spake from the 

steps of the altar, 430 

Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal 

commission. 
" You are convened this day," he said, " by his Maj- 
esty's orders. 
Clement and* kind has he been ; but how you have 

answered his kindness 
Let your own hearts reply ! To my natural make and 

my temper 
Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must 

be grievous. 435 

Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our 

monarch : 
Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle 

of all kinds 
Forfeited be to the crown ; and that you yourselves 

from this province 

432. Colonel Winslow has preserved in his Diary the speech 
which he delivered to the assembled Acadians, and it is copied 
by Halihurton in his History of Nova Scotia, i. 166, 167. 



EVANGELINE. 41 

Be transported to other lands. God grant you may 

dwell there 
Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable peo- 
ple ! 440 
Prisoners now I declare you, for such is his Majesty's 

pleasure ! " 
As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of 

summer, 
Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the 

hailstones 
Beats down the farmer's corn in the field, and shatters 

his windows. 
Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch 

from the house-roofs, 445 

Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their en- 
closures ; 
So on the hearts of the people descended the words ot 

the speaker. 
Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and 

then rose 
Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger, 
And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the 

door-way. 450 

^in was the hope of escape; and cries and fierce 

imprecations 
Rang through the house of prayer ; and high o'er the 

heads of the others 
Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the 

blacksmith. 
As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. 
Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; and 

wildly he shouted, — 45s 

** Down with the tyrants of England ! we never have 

sworn them allegiance ! 



42 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our 

homes and our harvests ! " 
More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand 

of a soldier 
Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to 

the pavement. 

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry con- 
tention, 4(30 
Lo ! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Feli- 

cian 
- Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of 

the altar. 
Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed 

into silence 
All that clamorous throng ; and thus he spake to his 

people ; 
Deep were his tones and solemn ; in accents measured 

and mournful 465 

Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the 

clock strikes. 
" What is this that ye do, my children ? what madness 

has seized you ? 
Forty years of my life have I labored among you, aad 

taught you, 
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another ! 
Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayer.'. 

and privations ? 47t 

Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and 

forgiveness ? 
This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would 

you profane it 
Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with 

hatred? 



EVANGELINE. 43 

Lo! where the crucified Christ from His cross is gaz- 
ing upon you ! 
See ! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy 



compassion 



Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ' O 
Father, forgive them ! ' 

Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked 
assail us, 

Let us repeat it now, and say, ' O Father, forgive 
them ! ' " 

Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts 
of Jiis people 

Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the pas- 
sionate outbreak, 480 

While they repeated his prayer, and said, " O Father, 
forgive them ! " 

Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed 

from the altar ; 
Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the 

people responded, 
Not with their lips alone, but their hearts; and the 

Ave Maria 
Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, 

with devotion translated, 48f 

Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending tc 

heaven. 

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of 
ill, and on all sides 
' Wandered, wailing, from hou>se to house the women 
and children. 
Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, with her 
riffht hand 



44 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, 

that, descending, m 

Lighted the village street with mysteiious splendor, 

and roofed each 
Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and emblazoned 

its windows. 
Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on 

the table ; 
There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant 

with wild flowers ; 
There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh 

brought from the dairy ; . 495 

And at the head of the board the great arm-chair of 

the farmer. 
Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, as the 

sunset 
Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad am- 
brosial meadows. 
Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen. 
And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celestial 

ascended, — 500 

Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgiveness, 

and patience ! 
Then, all forgetful of self, she wandered into the \\\- 

lage. 
Cheering with looks and words the mournful hearts of 

the women, 
As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps they 

departed. 
Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet of 

their children. 505" 

492. To emblazon is literally to adorn anything with ensigns 
armorial. It was often the custom to work these ensigns into 
the design of painted windows. 



EVANGELINE. . 45 

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmer- 
ing vapors 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descend- 
ing from Sinai. 

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelas 
sounded. 

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evange- 
line lingered. 
All was silent within ; and in vain at the door and the 

windows 510 

Stood she, and listened and looked, until, overcojue by 

emotion, 
" Gabriel ! " cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; 

but no answer 
Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier 

grave of the living. 
Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house 

of her father. 
Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board was 

the supper untasted. 515 

Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with 

phantoms of terror. 
Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her 

chamber. 
In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate 

rain fall 
Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by 

the window. 
Keenly the lightning flashed ; and the voice of the 

echoing thunder 520 

Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the 

world He created! 



46 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the 

justice of Heaven ; 
Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully 

slumbered till morning. 

V. 

Four times the sun had risen and set ; and now on 

the fifth day 

Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the 
farm-house. 525 

Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful pro- 
cession. 

Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the 
Acadian women, 

Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to 
the sea-shore. 

Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on their 
dwellings, 

Ere they were -shut from sight by the winding road and 
the woodland. 530 

Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on 
the oxen. 

While in their little hands they clasped some frag- 
ments of playthings. 

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried ; and 

there on the sea-beach 
Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the 

peasants. 
All day long between the shore and the ships did the 

boats ply ; ssi 

All day long the wains came laboring down from the 

village. 
Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his 

setting. 



EVANGELINE. 47 

Echoed far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from 
the churchyard. 

Thither the women and children thronged. On a sud- 
den the church-doors 

Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in 
gloomy procession 540 

Followed the long-impi'isoned, but patient, Acadian 
farmers. 

Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes 
and their country. 

Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary 
and wayworn. 

So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants de- 
scended 

Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives 
and their daughters. 545 

Foremost the young men came ; and, raising together 
their voices. 

Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic 
Missions : — 

" Sacred heart of the Saviour ! O inexhaustible foun= 
tain ! 

Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission 
and patience ! " 

Then the old men, as they marched, and the women 
that stood by the wayside 550 

Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the sun- 
shine above them 

Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits 
departed. 

Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waitecf in 
silence, 
Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of 
affliction, — - 



48 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Calmly and sadly she waited, until tlie procession ap 
proached her, 555 

And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. 

Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running to 
meet him. 

Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his 
shoulder-, and whispered, — 

" Gabriel ! be of good cheer ! for if we love one 
another 

Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances 
may happen ! " m 

Smiling she spake these words ; then suddenly paused, 
for- her father 

Saw she, slowly advancing. Alas ! how changed was 
his aspect ! 

Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from 
his eye, and his footstep 

Heavier seemed with the weight of the heavy heart 
in his bosom. 

But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck and 
embraced him, ses 

Speaking words of endearment where words of com- 
fort availed not. 

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that mourn- 
ful procession. 

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of 

embarking. 
Busily plied the freighted boats ; and in the confusion 
Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, 

too late, saw their children 570 

Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest 

entreaties. 
So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried. 



EVANGELINE. 49 

While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with 

her father. 
Half the task was not done when the sun went down, 

and the twilight 
Deepened and darkened around ; and in haste the 

refluent ocean 575 

Fled away from the shore, and left the line of the 

sand-beach 
Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the slip- 
pery sea-weed. 
Farther back in the midst of the household g-oods and 

the wagons, 
Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle. 
All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near 

them, 580 

Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian 

farmers. 
Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing 

ocean. 
Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and 

leaving 
Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the 

sailors. 
Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from 

their pastures ; sso 

Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of milk 

from their udders ; 
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars 

of the farm-yard, — 
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand 

of the milkmaid. 
Silence reigned in the streets ; from the church no 

Angelus sounded. 
Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights 

from the windows. 590 



50 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had 

been kindled, 
Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from 

wrecks in the tempest- 
Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were 

gathered, 
Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the 

crying of children. 
Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in 

his parish, 595 

Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing 

and cheering. 
Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate sea- 
shore. 
Thus he approached the place where Evangeline sat 

with her father, 
And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old 

man. 
Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either 

thought or emotion, 600 

E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have 

been taken. 
Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to 

cheer him, 
Vainly offered him food ; yet he moved not, he looked 

not, he spake not, 
But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering 

fire-light. 
" Benedicite 1 " murmured the priest, in tones of com- 
passion. 605 
More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, 

and his accents 
Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child 

on a threshold. 



EVANGELINE. 51 

Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful pres- 
ence of sorrow. 

Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the 
maiden, 

Raising his tearful eyes to the silent stars that above 
them 610 

Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and 
sorrows of mortals. 

Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together 
in silence. 

Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn 

the blood-red 
Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the 

horizon 
Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain 

and meadow, 615 

Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge 

shadows together. 
Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of 

the village, 
Gleamed on the sky and sea, and the ships that lay in 

the roadstead. 
Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of 

flame were 
Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the 

quivering hands of a martyr, 62( 

615. The Titans were giant deities in Greek mythology who 
attempted to deprive Saturn of the sovereignty of heaven, and 
were driven down into Tartarus by Jupiter, the son of Saturn, 
who hurled thunderbolts at them, Briareus, the hundred-handed 
giant, was in mythology of the same parentage as the TitanSj 
but was not classed with them 



62 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning 

thatch, and, uplifting, 
Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a 

hundred house-tops 
Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame inter- 

mingled. 

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the 
shore and on shipboard. 

Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud in their 
anguish, 625 

" We shall behold no more our homes in the village of 
Grand-Pre ! " 

Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farm- 
yards. 

Thinking the day had dawned ; and anon the lowing 
of cattle 

Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs 
interrupted. 

Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleep- 
ing encampments 63o 

Far in the western prairies of forests that skirt the 
Nebraska, 

When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with the 
speed of the whirlwind, 

621. Gleeds. Hot, burning coals ; a Chaucerian word : — 

"And wafres piping hoot out of the gleede." 

Canterbury Tales, 1. 3379. 

The burning of the houses was in accordance with the instruc- 
tions of the Governor to Colonel Winslow, in case he should fail 
in collecting all the inhabitants : " You must proceed by the most 
vigorous measures possible, not only in compelling them to em- 
bark, but in depriving those who shall escape of all means of 
shelter or support, by burning their houses and by destroying 
everything that may afford them the means of subsistence in the 
country." 



EVANGELINE. 53 

Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the 

river. 
Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the 

herds and the horses 
Broke through their folds and fences, and madly 

rushed o'er the meadows. 635 

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the 

priest and the maiden 
Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and 

widened before them ; 
And as they turned at length to speak to their silent 

companion, 
Lo ! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad 

on the seashore 
Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had de- 
parted. 640 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the 

maiden 
Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her 

terror. 
Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on 

his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious 

slumber ; 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a 

multitude near her. C45 

Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully gaz= 

ing upon her. 
Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest com 

passion. 
Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the 

landscape, 



54 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces 

around her, 
And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering 

senses. eso 

Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the peo- 
ple,— 
" Let us bury him here by the sea. When a happier 

season 
Brings us again to our hoaies from the unknown land 

of our exile. 
Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the 

churchyard." 
Such were the words of the priest. And there in 

haste by the sea-side, ess 

Having the glare of the burning village for funeral 

torches. 
But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of 

Grand -Pre. 
And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of 

sorrow, 
Lo ! with a mournful sound like the voice of a vast 

congregation, 
Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with 

the dirges. eeo 

'T was the returning tide, that afar from the waste of 

the ocean, 
With the first dawn of the day, came heaving and hur- 
rying landward. 
Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of 

embarking ; 

657. The bell was tolled to mark the passage of the soul into 
the other world ; the book was the service book. The phrase 
"bell, book, or candle" was used in referring to excommumca» 
tion. 



EVANGELINE. 55 

And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed out of 

the harbor, 
Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and the 

villaore in ruins. m 



PART THE SECOND. 

I. 

Many a weary year had passed since the burning of 

Grand-Pre, 
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels de- 
parted, 
Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into 

exile, 
Exile without an end, and without an example in 

story. 
Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians 

landed ; ero 

Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the 

wind from the northeast 
Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks 

of Newfoundland. 
Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from 

city to city, 
From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southerr 

savannas, — 
From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where 

the Father of Waters 67f 

Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down to 

the ocean. 
Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the 

mammoth. 
677. Bones of the mastodon, or mammoth, have been found 



66 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Friends they sought and homes ; and many, despairing, 
heart-broken, 

Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend 
nor a fireside. 

Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the 
churchyards. eso 

Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and 
wandered, 

Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all 
things. 

Fair was she and young ; but, alas ! before her ex- 
tended, 

Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its 
pathway 

Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and 
suffered before her, ess 

Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and 
abandoned. 

As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is 
marked by 

Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in 
the sunshine. 

Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, 
unfinished ; 

As if a morning of June, with all its music and sun- 
shine, 690 

Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly de- 
scended 

Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. 

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the 
fever within her, 

scattered all over the territory of the United States and Canada, 
but the greatest number have been collected in the Salt Licks of 
Kentucky, and in the States of Ohio, Mississippi, Missouri, and 
Alabama. 



EVANGELINE. 57 

Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of 
the spirit, 

She would commence again her endless search and en- 
deavor ; 695 

Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the 
crosses and tombstones, 

Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps 
in its bosom 

He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber be- 
side him. 

Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whis- 
per, 

Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her for- 
ward. 700 

Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her be- 
loved and known him, 

But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgot- 
ten. 

" Gabriel Lajeunesse ! " they said ; " Oh, yes ! we have 
seen him. 

He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone 
to the prairies ; 

Caureurs-des-bois are they, and famous hunters and 
trappers." vos 

699. Observe the diminution in this line, by which one is led 
to the airii hand in the next. 

705. The coureurs-des-hois formed a class of men, very early in 
Canadian history, produced by the exigencies of the fur-trade. 
They were French by birth, but by long affiliation with the In- 
dians and adoption of their customs had become half-civilized 
vagrants, whose chief vocation was conducting the canoes of the 
traders along the lakes and rivers of the interior. Bushrangers 
is the English equivalent. They played an important part in the 
Indian wars, but were nearly as lawless as the Indians them- 
selves. The reader will find them frequently referred to in 



68 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" Gabriel Lajeunesse ! " said others ; " Oh, yes I we 

have seen him. 
He is a voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana." 
Then would they say, " Dear child ! why dream and 

wait for him longer ? 
Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel ? others 
Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as 

loyal ? 71 c 

Here is Baptiste Leblane, the notary's son, who has 

loved thee 
Many a tedious year ; come, give him thy hand and be 

happy! 
Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's 

tresses." 
Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, 

" I cannot ! 
Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, 

and not elsewhere. 715 

For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and 

illumines the pathway, 
Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in 

darkness." 
Thereupon the priest, her friend and father confessor. 
Said, with a smile, "O daughter! thy God thus 

speaketh within thee ! 
Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was 

wasted ; 72c 

Parkman's histories, especially in The Conspiracy of Pontiac, 
The Discovery of the Great West, and Frontenac and New France 
under Louis XI V. 

707. A voyageur is a river boatman, and is a term applied 
usually to Canadians. 

713. St. Catherine of Alexandria and St. Catherine of Siena 
were both celebrated for their vows of virginity. Hence the say- 
ing to braid St. Catherine's tresses, of one devoted to a single life. 



EVANGELINE. 59 

If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, re- 
turning 
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full 

of refreshment ; 
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to 

the fountain. 
Patience ; accomijlish thy labor ; accomplish thy work 

of affection ! 
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance 

is godlike. 725 

Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart 

is made godlike. 
Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more 

worthy of heaven ! " 
Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline labored 

and waited. 
Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the 

ocean, 
But with its sound there was mingled a voice that 

whispered, " Despair not ! " 730 

Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheer- 
less discomfort, 
Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of 

existence. 
Let me essay, O Muse ! to follow the wanderer's foot= 

steps ; — 
Not through each devious path, each changeful year 

of existence ; 
But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course through 

the valley : 735 

Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of 

its water 
Here and there, in some open sjDace, and at intervals 

only ; 



60 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan glooms 

that conceal it, 
Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous 

niurmur ; 
Happy, at length, if he find a spot where it reaches 

an outlet. in 

II. 

It was the month of May. Far down the Beautiful 
River, 

Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wa- 
bash, 

Into the golden stream of the broad and swift Mis- 
sissippi, 

Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian 
boatmen. 

It was a band of exiles : a raft, as it were, from the 
shipwrecked 745 

Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating to- 
gether, 

Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a com- 
mon misfortune ; 

Men and women and children, who, guided by hope 
or by hearsay. 

Sought for their kith and their kin among the few- 
acred farmers 

On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair Ope» 
lousas. 15C 

741. The Iroquois gave to this river the name of Ohio, or the 
Beautiful River, and La Salle, who was the first European to 
discover it, preserved the name, so that it was transferred to 
maps very early. 

750. Between the 1st of January and the 13th of May, 1765, 
about six hundred and fifty Acadians had arrived at New Or- 



EVANGELINE. 61 

With them Evangeline went, and her guide, the 
Father Feliciau. 

Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness 
sombre with forests. 

Day after day they glided adown the turbulent river ; 

Night after night, by their blazing fires, encamped on 
its borders. 

Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, 
where plumelike 755 

Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they swept 
with the current. 

Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery sand- 
bars 

Lay in the stream, and along the wimpliug waves of 
their mai'gin, 

Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of pel- 
icans waded. 

Level the landscape grew, and along the shores of the 
river, veo 

Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant gar- 
dens. 

Stood the houses of planters, with negro cabins and 
dove-cots. 

They were approaching the region where reigns per- 
petual summer, 

leans. Louisiana had been ceded by France to Spain in 1762 
but did not really pass under the control of the Spanish until 
1769. The existence of a French population attracted the wan- 
dering Acadians, and they were sent by the authorities to form 
settlements in Attakapas and Opelousas. They afterward formed 
settlements on both sides of the Mississippi from the German 
Coast up to Baton Rouge, and even as high as Pointe Coupde. 
Hence the name of Acadian Coast, which a portion of the banks 
of the river still bears. • See Gayarr^'s History of Louisiana : 
The French Dominion, vol. ii. 



62 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of 
orange and citron, 

Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the east- 
ward. 763 

They, too, swerved from their course ; and, entering 
the Bayou of Plaquemine, 

Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious 
waters, 

Which, like a network of steel, extended in every 
direction. 

Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs 
of the cypress 

Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid- 
air 770 

Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient 
cathedrals. 

Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save by 
the herons 

Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returning at 
sunset, 

Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with demoniac 
laughter. 

Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed 
on the water, 775 

Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustain- 
ing the arches, 

Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through 
chinks in a ruin. 

Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things 
around them ; 

And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder 
and sadness, — 

Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot bo 
compassed. 



EVANGELINE. 63 

As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the 

prairies, 
Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrinking 

mimosa. 
So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings of 

evil. 
Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom 

has attained it. 
But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, that 

faintly 785 

Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on through 

the moonlight. 
It was the thought of her brain that assumed the 

shape of a j)hantom. 
Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wandered 

before her. 
And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer 

and nearer. 

Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one 

of the oarsmen, 790 

And, as a signal sound, if others like them peradven- 

ture 
Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a 

blast on his bugle. 
Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy 

the blast rang, 
Breaking the seal of silence and giving tongues to the 

forest. 
Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred 

to the music. 795 

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance, 
Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant 

branches : 



64 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

But not a voice replied ; no answer came from the 

darkness ; 
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain 

was the silence. 
Then Evangeline slept ; but the boatmen rowed 

through the midnight, soc 

Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat- 
songs, 
Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers, 
While through the night were heard the mysterious 

sounds of the desert. 
Far off, — indistinct, — as of wave or wind in the 

forest, 
Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of 

the grim alligator. sos 

Thus ere another noon they emerged from the 
shades ; and before them 

Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya. 

Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undula- 
tions 

Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, 
tlie lotus 

Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boat- 
men, 810 

Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magno- 
lia blossoms. 

And with the heat of noon ; and numberless sylvan 
islands. 

Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming 
hedges of roses, 

Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to 
slumber. 

Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were sus- 
pended. 8i» 



EVANGELINE. 65 

Under the boughs of Wachlta willows, that grew by 
the margin, 

Safely their boat was moored ; and scattered about on 
the greensward. 

Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers 
slumbered. 

Over them vast and high extended the cope of a 
cedar. 

Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and 
the grapevine 820 

Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of 
Jacob, 

On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, de- 
scending, 

Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blos- 
som to blossom. 

Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered 
beneath it. 

Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an 
opening heaven 825 

Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions 
celestial. 

Nearer, ever neai*er, among the numberless islands, 
Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the 

water. 
Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters 

and trappers. 
Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the 

bison and beaver. 830 

At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful 

and careworn. 
Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and 

a sadness 



66 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly 
written. 

Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy and 
restless, 

Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of 
sorrow. sse 

Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the 
island, 

But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of pal- 
mettos ; 

So that they saw not the boat, where it lay concealed 
in the willows ; 

All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, 
were the sleepers ; 

Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumber- 
ing maiden. 84o 

Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on 
the prairie. 

After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died 
in the distance. 

As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the 
maiden 

Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, "O Father 
Felician ! 

Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel 
wanders. 845 

Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague superstition? 

Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to my 
spirit ? " 

Then, with a blush, she added, "Alas for my credu- 
lous fancy ! 

Unto ears like thine such words as these have no 
meaning." 

But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled as 
he answered, — sm 



EVANGELINE. 67 

" Daughter, thy words are not idle ; nor are they to 

me without meaning, 
Feeling is deep and still ; and the word that floats on 

the surface 
Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor 

is hidden. 
Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world 

calls illusions. 
Gabriel truly is near thee ; for not far away to the 

southward, ess 

On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. Maur 

and St. Martin. 
There the long-wandering bride shall be given again 

to her bridegroom, 
There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his 

sheepfold. 
Beautifid is the land, with its prairies and forests of 

fruit-trees ; 
Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of 

heavens seo 

Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of 

the forest. 
They who dwell there have named it the Eden of 

Louisiana." 

With these words of cheer they arose and continued 
their journey. 

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western 
horizon 

Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the 
landscape ; ees 

Twinkling vapors arose ; and sky and water and forest 

Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and min- 
gled together. 



68 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of 

silver, 
Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the mo- 
tionless water. 
Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweet= 

ness. 67C 

Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of 

feeling 
Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters 

around her. 
Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, 

wildest of singers, 
Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the 

water. 
Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious 

music, 875 

That the whole air and the woods and the waves 

seemed silent to listen. 
Plaintive at first were the tones and sad ; then soaring 

to madness 
Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied 

Bacchantes. 
Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lam- 
entation ; 
Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad 

in derision, sse 

As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the 

tree-tops 
Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on 

the branches. 

878. The Bacchantes were worshippers of the god Bacchus, 
who in Greek mythology presided over the vine and its fruits. 
They gave themselves up to all manner of excess, and theii 
songs and dances were to wild, intoxicating measures. 



EVANGELINE. 69 

With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed 
with emotion, 

Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through 
the green Opelousas, 

And, through the amber air, above the crest of the 
woodland, ssr 

Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighbor- 
ing dwelling ; — 

Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing 
of cattle. 

III. 

Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks 
from whose branches 

Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe 
flaunted, 

Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at 
Yule-tide, 89o 

Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. 
A garden 

Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blos- 
soms, 

Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was 
of timbers 

Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted to- 
gether. 

Large and low was the roof ; and on slender columns 
supported, 895 

Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious 
veranda. 

Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended 
around it. 

At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the 
garden, 



70 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual sym- 
bol, 

Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of 
rivals. 900 

Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow 
and sunshine 

Ran near the tops of the trees ; but the house itself 
was in shadow. 

And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly ex- 
panding 

Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke 
rose. 

In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a 
pathway 905 

Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the 
limitless prairie, 

Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descend- 
ing. 

Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy 
canvas 

Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm 
in the tropics. 

Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of 
grapevines. 910 

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf of 

the prairie. 
Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and 

stirrups, 
Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of 

deerskin. 
Broad and brown was the face that from under the 

Spanish sombrero 
Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of 

its master. 913 



EVANGELINE. 71 

Round about him were numberless herds of kine that 
were grazing 

Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory 
freshness 

That uprose from the river, and spread itself over the 
landscape. 

Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and ex- 
panding 

Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that re- 
sounded 820 

Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air 
of the evening. 

Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the 
cattle 

Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of 
ocean. 

Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed 
o'er the prairie. 

And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the 
distance. 925 

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through 
the gate of the garden 

Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden ad- 
vancing to meet him. 

Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amaze- 
ment, and forward 

Pushed with extended arms and exclamations of won* 
der; 

When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the 
blacksmith. 930 

Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the 
garden. 

There in an arbor of roses with endless question and 
answer 



72 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their 

friendly embraces, 
Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and 

thoughtful. 
Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not ; and now dark 

doubts and misgivings 935 

Stole o'er the maiden's heart ; and Basil, somewhat 

embai'rassed, 
Broke the silence and said, "If you came by the 

Atchafalaya, 
How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's 

boat on the bayous ? " 
Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade 

passed. 
Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a trem- 
ulous accent, 940 
" Gone ? is Gabriel gone ? " and, concealing her face 

on his shovilder, 
All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept 

and lamented. 
Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew blithe 

as he said it, — 
" Be of good cheer, my child ; it is only to-day he 

departed. 
Foolish boy ! he has left me alone with my herds and 

my horses. m 

Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his 

spirit 
Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet exis. 

tence. 
Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever, 
Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles, 
He at length had become so tedious to men and to 

maidens, 950 



EVANGELINE. 73 

Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and 

sent him 
Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the 

Spaniards. 
Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark 

Mountains, 
Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the 

beaver. 
Therefore be of good cheer ; we will follow the fugi- 
tive lover ; 955 
He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the 

streams are against him. 
Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of 

the morning, 
We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his 

prison." 

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the 

banks of the river. 
Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the 

fiddler. seo 

Long under Basil's roof had he lived, like a god on 

Olympus, 
Having no other care than dispensing music to mor- 
tals. 
Far renowned was he for his silver locks and his 

fiddle. 
' Long live Michael," they cried, " our brave Acadian 

minstrel ! " 
As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession ; and 

straightway ses 

Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting 

the old man 
Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, 

enraptured, 



74 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gos- 
sips, 

Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and 
daughters. 

Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the ci-devant 
blacksmith, 97/ 

All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchaf 
demeanor ; 

Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil and 
the climate. 

And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were his 
who would take them ; 

Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would go 
and do likewise. 

Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy 
veranda, 975 

Entered the hall of the house, where already the sup- 
per of Basil 

Waited his late return ; and they rested and feasted 
together. 

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness de- 
scended. 

All was silent without, and, illuming the landscape 
with silver. 

Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars ; but 
within doors, 98' 

Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the 
glimmering lamplight. 

Then from his station aloft, at the head of the table, 
the herdsman 

Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless 
profusion. 

Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchi- 
toches tobacco^ 



EVANGELINE. 75 

Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled 

as they listened : — 985 

" Welcome once more, my friends, who long have been 

friendless and homeless, 
Welcome once more to a home, that is better per- 
chance than the old one ! 
Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like the 

rivers ; 
Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the 

farmer ; 
Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil, as a 

keel through the water. 990 

All the year round the orange-groves are in blossom ; 

and grass grows 
More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer. 
Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed 

in the prairies ; 
Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and 

forests of timber 
With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed 

into houses. 995 

After your houses are built, and your fields are yellow 

with harvests. 
No King George of England shall drive you away from 

your homesteads. 
Burning your dwellings and barns, and stealing your 

farms and your cattle." 
Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from 

his nostrils. 
While his huge, brown hand came thundering down 

on the table, ioo« 

So that the guests all started ; and Father Felician, 

astounded, 
Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half-way to 

his nostrils. 



76 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were 

milder and gayer : — 
" Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of the 

fever ! 
For it is not like that of our cold Acadian climate, looo 
Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck in r 

nutshell!" 
Then there were voices heard at the door, and foot 

stejjs approaching 
Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy 

veranda. 
It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian 

planters. 
Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the 

herdsman. loio 

Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and 

neighbors : 
Friend clasped friend in his arms ; and they who 

before were as strangers. 
Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each 

other. 
Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country 

together. 
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, pro- 

ceeding 1015 

From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious 

fiddle, 
Broke up all further speech. Away, like children! 

delighted. 
All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves to 

the maddening 
Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed to 

the music. 
Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of flutter- 
ing garments. 102c 



EVANGELINE. 11 

Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest 

and the herdsman 
Sat, conversing together of past and present and 

future ; 
While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within 

her 
Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the 

music 
Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepres- 
sible sadness 1025 
Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into 

the garden. 
Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of 

the forest. 
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the jnoon. On 

the river 
Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous 

gleam of the moonlight, 
Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and 

devious spirit. io3« 

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers 

of the garden 
Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers 

and confessions 
Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent 

Carthusian. 

1033. The Carthusians are a monastic order founded in the 
twelfth century, perhaps the mosC severe in its rules of all reli- 
gious societies. Almost perpetual silence is one of the vows; the 
monks can talk together but once a week ; the labor required of 
them is unremitting and the discipline exceedingly rigid. The 
first monastery was established at Chartreux near Grenoble in 
France, and the Latinized form of the name has given us the 
word Carthusian. 



78 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with 
shadows and night-dews, 

Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the 
magical moonlight 1035 

Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable long- 
ings, 

\s, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade 
of the oak-trees. 

Passed she along the path to the edge of the measure- 
less prairie. 

Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies 

Gleamed and floated away in mingled and infinite 
numbers. 1040 

Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the 
heavens, 

Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel 
and worship, 

Save when a blaziiig comet was seen on the walls of 
that temple, 

As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, 
" Upharsin." 

And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and 
the fire-flies, 1045 

Wandered alone, and she cried, " O Gabriel ! O my 
beloved ! 

Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold 
thee ? 

Art thou so near unto ro^, and yet thy voice does not 
reach me ? 

Ah ! how often thy feet have trod this path to the 
prairie ! 

Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the wood- 
lands around me ! losa 

Ah ! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor, 



EVANGELINE. 79 

Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in 

thy slumbers ! 
When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded 

about thee ? " 
Loud and sudden and near the notes of a whippoor= 

will sounded 
Like a flute in the woods ; and anon, through the 

neighboring thickets, 1055 

Farther and farther away it Hoated and dropped into 

silence. 
" Patience ! " whispered the oaks from oracular cav- 
erns of darkness ; 
And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, 

" To-morrow ! " 

Bright rose the sun next day ; and all the flowers 
of the garden 

Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed 
his tresses loeo 

With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases 
of crystal. 

"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the 
shadowy threshold ; 

■'See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his 
fasting and famine, 

/Ind, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the 
bridegroom was coming." 

'Farewell ! " answered the maiden, and, smiling, with 
Basil descended loes 

Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already 
were waiting. 

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sun- 
shine, and gladness, 

Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speed- 
ing before them, 



80 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the 

desert. 
Not that day, uor the next, nor yet the day that suc- 
ceeded, 1O70 
Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or 

river. 
Nor, after many days, had they found him ; but vague 

and uncertain 
Rumors alone were their guides through a wild and 

desolate country ; 
Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes, 
Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the 

garrulous landlord iots 

That on the day before, with horses and guides and 

companions, 
Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the 

prairies. 

rv. 

Far in the West there lies a desert land, where the 

mountains 
Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and lumi- 
nous summits. 
Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the 

gorge, like a gateway, loso 

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's 

wagon. 
Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and 

Owyhee. 
Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river 

Mountains, 
Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps the 

Nebraska ; 
And to the south, from Foutaine-qui-bout and the 

Spanish sierras, low 



EVANGELINE. 81 

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind 
of the desert, 

Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to 
the ocean, 

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemr 
vibrations. 

Spreading between these streams are the wondrous 
beautiful prairies, 

Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sun- 
shine, 1090 

Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple 
amorphas. 

Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the elk 
and the roebuck ; 

Over them wandered the wolves, and herds of rider- 
less horses ; 

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary 
with travel ; 

Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's 
children, 1095 

Staining the desert with blood ; and above their terri- 
ble war-trails 

Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vul- 
ture, 

Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered 
in battle, 

By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heav- 
ens. 

Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these 
savage marauders ; noo 

Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift- 
running rivers ; 

And the gTim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of 
the desert. 



82 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 

Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by 

the brook-side, 
And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline 

heaven, 
Like the protecting hand of God inverted above 

them. uo. 

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark 

Mountains, 
Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers 

behind him. 
Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden 

and Basil 
loUowed his flying steps, and thought each day to 

o'ertake him. 
Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke 

of his camp-fire mo 

Rise in the morning air from the distant plain ; but 

at nightfall, 
When they had reached the jDlace, they found only 

embers and ashes. 
And, though their hearts were sad at times and their 

bodies were weary, 
Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana 
Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated and 

vanished before them. ins 

1114. The Italian name for a meteoric phenomenon nearly 
illied to a mirage, witnessed in the Straits of Messina, and less 
frequently elsewhere, and consisting in the appearance in the 
air over the sea of the objects which are upon the neighboring 
coasts. In the southwest of our own country, the mirage is very 
common, of lakes which stretch before the tired traveller, and 
the deception is so great that parties have sometimes beckoned 
to other travellers, who seemed to be wading knee-deep, to come 
over to them where dry laud was 



EVANGELINE. 88 

Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there silently 

entered 
Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose features 
Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as great as 

her sorrow. 
She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her 

people. 
From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel Ca- 

raanches, 1120 

Where her Canadian husband, a coureur-des-bois, 

had been murdered. 
Touched were their hearts at her story, and warmest 

and friendliest welcome 
Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and 

feasted among them 
On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on the 

embers. 
But when their meal was done, and Basil and all his 

companions, 1125 

Worn with the long day's march and the chase of the 

deer and the bison. 
Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where 

the quivering fire-light 
Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms 

wrapped vip in their blankets. 
Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and re- 
peated 
Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her In- 
dian accent, 1130 
All the tale of «her love, with its pleasures, and pains, 

and reverses. 
Muoh Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know that 

another 
Hapless heart like her own had loved and had been 

disappointed. 



84 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, 

Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and woman's 

compassion, 
Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suffered 

was near her, txx 

She in turn related her love and all its disasters. 
Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she had 

ended 
Still was mute ; but at length, as if a mysterious hor 

ror 
Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated the 

tale of the Mowis ; 
Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and wedded 

a maiden, iwo 

But, when the morning came, arose and passed from 

the wigwam, 
Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sun- 
shine, 
Till she beheld him no more, though she followed far 

into the forest. 
Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed like a 

weird incantation. 
Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed 

by a phantom, 1145 

That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in the 

hush of the twilight, 
Breathed like the evening wind, and whisj)ered love to 

the maiden. 
Till she followed his green and waving plume through 

the forest. 
And nevermore returned, nor was seen again by her 

people. 



1145. The story of Lilinau and other Indian legends will bs 
found in H. R. Schoolcraft's Alaic Researches, 



EVANGELINE. 85 

Silent with wonder and strange surprise, Evangeline 
listened nso 

To the soft flow of her magical words, till the region 
around her 

Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy guest 
the enchantress. 

Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains the 
moon rose. 

Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious splen- 
dor 

Touching- the sombre leaves, and embracing and filling 
the woodland. um 

With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the 
branches 

Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible whis- 
pers. 

Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's 
heart, but a secret, 

Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite terror. 

As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest of 
the swallow. iieo 

It was no earthly fear. A breath from the region of 
spirits 

Seemed to float in the air of night ; and she felt for a 
moment 

That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pursuing a 
phantom. 

With this thought she slept, and the fear and the 
phantom had vanished. 

Early upon the morrow the march was resumed, and 
the Shawnee net 

Said, as they journeyed along, — " On the western 
slope of these mountains 



86 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Dwells in his little village the Black Robe chief of 

the Mission. 
Much he teaches the people, and tells them of Mary 

and Jesus ; 
Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep with pain. 

as they hear him." 
Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, Evangeline 

answered, n70 

" Let us go to the Mission, for there good tidings 

await us ! " 
Thither they turned their steeds ; and behind a spur 

of the mountains. 
Just as the sun went down, they heard a murmur of 

voices. 
And in a meadow green and broad, by the bank of a 

river. 
Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the Jesuit 

Mission. n75 

Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the 

village. 
Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. A 

crucifix fastened 
High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by 

grapevines, 
Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneel- 
ing beneath it. 
This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the intri- 
cate arches use 
Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers. 
Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs of 

the branches. 
Silent, with heads uncovered, the ti'avellers, nearer 

approaching. 
Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening 

devotions. 



EVANGELINE. 87 

But when the service was done, and the benediction 
had fallen uss 

Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the 
hands of the sower, 

Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, 
and bade them 

Welcome ; and when they replied, he smiled with be= 
nignant expression. 

Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother-tongue in 
the forest, 

And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his 
wigwam. 1190 

There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes 
of the maize-ear 

Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd 
of the teacher. 

Soon was their story told ; and the priest with solem- 
nity answered : — 

" Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, seated 

On this mat by my side, where now the maiden re- 
poses, n95 

Told me this same sad tale ; then arose and continued 
his journey ! " 

Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an 
accent of kindness ; 

But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in winter 
the snow-flakes 

Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have 
departed. 

" Far to the north he has gone," continued the priest ; 
" but in autumn, 1200 

When the chase is done, will return again to the Mis- 
sion." 

Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and 
submissive, 



88 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

" Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and af- 
flicted.'^ 

So seemed it wise and well unto all ; and betimes on 
the morrow, 

Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides 
and companions, 1205 

Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at 
the Mission^ 

Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each 

other, — 
Days and weeks and months ; and the fields of maize 

that were springing 
Green from the ground when a stranger she came, 

now waving about her, 
Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, 

and forming 1210 

Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged 

by squirrels. 
Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, 

and the maidens 
Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a 

lover, 
But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in 

the corn-field. 
Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her 

lover. 1215 

' Patience ! " the priest would say ; " have faith, and 

thy prayer will be answered ! 
Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its head from 

the meadow, 
See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as 

the magnet ; 



fEVANGELINE. 89 

This is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has 

planted 
Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's 

journey 12281 

Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the 

desert. 
Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of 

passion. 
Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of 

fragrance, 
But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their 

odor is deadly. 
Only this humble plant can guide us here, and here- 
after 1225 
Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the 

dews of nepenthe." 

So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter — 

yet Gabriel came not ; 
Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the 

robin and bluebird 
Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel 

came not. 
But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was 

wafted 1230 

1219. Silph'mm laciniatum or compass-plant is found on the 
prairies of Michigan and Wisconsin and to the south and west, 
and is said to present the edges of the lower leaves due north 
and south. 

1226. In early Greek poetry the asphodel meadows were 
haunted hy the shades of heroes. See Homer's Odyssey, xxiv. 
13, where Pope translates : — 

" In ever flowering meads of Asphodel." 
The asphodel is of the lily family, and is known also by the 
name king's spear. 



90 HENRY WADSWORTH LOJVGFELLOW. 

Sweeter tlian song of bird, or hue or odor of blos- 
som. 

Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan 
forests, 

Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw 
Eiver. 

And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of 
St. Lawrence, 

Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mis- 
sion. 1235 

When over weary ways, by long and perilous 
marches. 

She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan 
forests. 

Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to 
ruin ! 

Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in sea- 
sons and places 
Divers and distant far was seen the wandering 

maiden ; — 121c 

Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian 

Missions, 
Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of thi' 

army, 
Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous 

cities. 
Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremem 

bered. 
Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long 

journey ; " 1245 

Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it 

ended. 
1241, A rendering of the Moravian Gnadenhtitten. 



EVANGELINE. 91 

Each succeeding year stole something away from her 

beauty, 
Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and 

the shadow. 
Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray 

o'er her forehead, 
Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly hoiv 

izon, 1250 

As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the 

morning. 

V. 

In that delightful land which is washed by the Dela- 
ware's waters, 

Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Peun the 
apostle, 

Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city 
he founded. 

There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem 
of beauty, 1255 

And the streets still reecho the names of the trees of 
the forest, 

As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose 
haunts they molested. 

There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, 
an exile. 

Finding among the children of Penn a home and a 
country. 

There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when he 
departed, • 1260 

Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descend- 
ants. 

1256. The streets of Philadelphia, as is well known, are many 
of them, especially those running east and west, named for trees, 
as Chestnut, Walnut, Locust, Spruce, Pine, etc. 



92 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Something at least there was in the friendly streets of 
the city, 

Something- that spake to her heart, and made her no 
longer a stranger ; 

And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of 
the Quakers, 

For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country, n&i 

Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and 
sisters. 

So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed en- 
deavor, 

Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, uncom- 
plaining, 

Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her 
thoughts and her footsteps. 

As from the mountain's top the rainy mists of the 
morning 1270 

Koll away, and afar we behold the landscape below us. 

Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and ham- 
lets. 

So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the 
world far below her. 

Dark no longer, but all illumined with love ; and the 
pathway 

Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth and fair 
in the distance. i27£ 

Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was his 
image. 

Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last she 
beheld him. 

Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence and 
absence. 

Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it was 
not. 



EVANGELINE. 93 

Over him years had no power ; he was not changed, 

but transfigured ; 128O 

He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and 

not absent ; 
Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others. 
This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had 

taught her. 
So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous 

spices, 
Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with 

aroma. 1285 

Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to 
Meekly follow, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of 

her Saviour. 
Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy ; fre- 
quenting 
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of 

the city. 
Where distress and want concealed themselves from 

the sunlight, 1290 

Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neg- 
lected. 
Night after night when the world was asleep, as the 

watchman repeated 
Loud, through the dusty streets, that all was well in 

the city. 
High at some lonely window he saw the light of her 

taper. 
Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow 

throufjh the suburbs 1295 

Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and fruits 

for the market. 
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its 

watchins:s. 



94 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the 
city, 

Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by floclcs of 
wild pigeons, 

Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in their 
craws but an acorn. isoo 

And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of Sep- 
tember, 

Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake 
in the meadow. 

So death flooded life, and, o'erflowing its natural mar- 
gin, 

Spread to a brackish lake the silver stream of ex- 
istence. 

Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm, 
the oppressor ; 1305 

But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his 
anger ; — 

Only, alas ! the poor, who had neither friends nor at- 
tendants. 

Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the 
homeless. 

Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows 
and woodlands ; — 

1298. The year 1793 was long remembered as the year when 
yellow fever was a terrible pestilence in Philadelphia. Charles 
Brockden Brown made his novel of Arthur Mervyn turn largely 
upon the incidents of the plague, which drove Brown away from 
home for a time. 

1308. Philadelphians have identified the old Friends' alms- 
house on Walnut Street, now no longer standing, as that in which 
Evangeline ministered to Gabriel, and so real was the story that 
some even ventured to point out tlie graves of the two lovers. 
See Westcott's The Historic Mansions of Philadelphia, pp. 101, 
102. 



EVANGELINE. 95 

Now the city surrounds it ; but still, with its gateway 
and wicket 1310 

Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem 
to echo 

Softly the words of the Lord : — " The poor ye al- 
ways have with you." 

Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of 
Mercy. The dying 

Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to be- 
hold there 

Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with 
splendor, isis 

Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and 
apostles. 

Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance. 

Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city celes- 
tial. 

Into whose shining gates erelong their spirits would 
enter. 

Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, de- 
serted and silent, 1320 

Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the 
almshouse. 

Sweet on the summer air was the odor of flowers in 
the garden. 

And she paused on her way to gather the fairest 
among them, 

That the dying once more might rejoice in their frar 
grance and beauty. 

Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, 
cooled by the east-wind, 1325 

Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the 
belfry of Christ Church, 



96 HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW, 

While, intermingled with these, across the meadowa 

were wafted 
Sounds of psahiis, that were sung by the Swedes in 

their church at Wicaco. 
Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on 

her spirit ; 
Something within her said, " At length thy trials are 

ended ; " isso 

And, with light in her looks, she entered the cham- 
bers of sickness. 
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attend- 
ants. 
Moistening the feverish lip, and. the aching brow, and 

in silence 
Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and concealing 

their faces, 
Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow 

by the roadside. 1335 

Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, 
Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed^ 

for her presence 
Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls 

of a jjrison. 
And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the 

consoler. 
Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it 

forever. imc 

1328. The Swedes' church at Wicaco is still standing, the 
oldest in the city of Philadelphia, having been begun in 1698. 
Wicaco is within the city, on the banks of the Delaware River. 
An interesting account of the old church and its historic associa- 
tions will be found in Westcott's book just mentioned, pp. 56-67. 
Wilson the ornithologist lies buried in the churchyard adjoining 
the church. 



EVANGELINE. 97 

Many familiar forms had disappeared in the night 

time ; 
Vacant their places were, or filled already by strangers. 

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of 

wonder, 
Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while a 

shudder 
Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets 

dropped fram her fingers, 1345 

And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of 

the morning. 
Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terri- 
ble anguish. 
That the dying heard it, and started up from their 

pillows. 
On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an 

old man. 
Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that shaded 

his temples ; 1350 

But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a 

moment 
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier 

manhood ; 
So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are 

dying. 
Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the 

fever, 
As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had besprinkled 

its portals, 1355 

That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and pass 

over. 
Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit 

exhausted 



98 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in 

the darkness, 
Darkness of shimber and death, forever sinking aiid 

sinking. 
Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied 

reverberations, laet 

Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that 

succeeded 
Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saint- 
like, 
" Gabriel ! O my beloved ! " and died away into si- 
lence. 
Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of 

his childhood ; 
Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among 

them, 1365 

Village, and mountain, and woodlands ; and, walking 

under their shadow. 
As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his 

vision. 
Tears came into his eyes ; and as slowly he lifted his 

eyelids. 
Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his 

bedside. 
Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents 

un uttered 1370 

Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his 

tongue would have spoken. 
Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, kneeling 

beside him. 
Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom, 
Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it suddenly sank 

into darkness. 
As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a 

casement. i37« 



EVANGELINE. 99 

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the 

sorrow, 
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied 

longing, 
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of 

patience ! 
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her 

bosom, 
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, " Father, 

I thank thee ! " isso 



Still stands the forest primeval ; but far away from 
its shadow. 

Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are 
sleeping. 

Under the humble walls of the little Catholic church- 
yard. 

In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and un- 
noticed. 

Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside 
them, • 1385 

Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at 
rest and forever, 

Thousan^^s of aching brains, where theirs no longer 
are busy, 

Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased 
from their labors. 

Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed 
their journey 1 

Still stands the forest primeval; but under the 

shade of its branches isoc 

Dwells another race, with other customs and language. 



100 JJENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW. 

Only along the shore of the mournful and misty 

Atlantic 
Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from 

exile 
Wandered back to their native land to die in its 

bosom. 
In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are still 

busy ; 1395 

Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles 

of homespun, 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story, 
While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neigh- 
boring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail 

of the forest. 



PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY 

OF PROPER NAMES AND FOREIGN WORDS IN 
EVANGELINE. 



The diacritical marks given below are those found in the latest edition of Web^ 
ster's Internatioual Dictionary. 



EXPLANATION OF MARKS. 

A Dash (~) above tlie vowel denotes the long sound. 
A Curve (" ) above the vowel denotes the short sound. 

A Circumflex Accent {") above the vowels a or u denotes the sound of a in care 
or of u in tflru ; above the vowel o it denotes the sound of o in 6rb. 
A Dot ( * ) above the vowel a denotes the sound of a in past. 
A Double Dot (") above the vowel a denotes the sound of a in star. 
A Double Dot ( __ ) below the vowel u denotes the sound of u in trjie. 
A Wave C^) above the vowel e denotes the sound of e in her. 

8 sounds like z. 
5 sounds like s. 
g sounds like j. 
a, e, o are similar in sound to &, e, o, but are not pronounced so long. 

Note that the pronunciation of French words can be given only approximately 
by means of signs and English equivalents. A living teacher is requisite to enable 
one to read and speak the language with elegance. 



Abb^ Guillaume Thomas Francis Raynal 

(SCb-ba' ge-yom', etc.). 
Acadie (a-ka-de'). 
Xcca'dia. 
Ada'yes. 
Aelian (e^T-5n). 

Aix-la-Chapelle (aks-lii-sha-pSl'). 
Amorphas (a-niSr'faz). 
Angelus Domini (Sn'je-liis d5m'i-nT). 
Arca'dia. 

asphodel (5s'fo-dSl). 
Atchafalaya (Sch-a-f4-li'ft). 
Attakapas (at-tiik'a-paw). 
Bacchantes (bak-kan'tez). 
Bacchus (bak'iJs). 



Beau Sdjour (bo sa-zhobr'). 

BenedTg'Tte. 

BSn'edTct BSllefontaine'. 

BlSmTdSn. 

Briareus (bri'a-rus). 

Bruges (brjizh). 

Cadie'. 

CSman'ch5§. 

CSnard'. 

Cape Brgt'on. 

fSl'tic. 

Charente Inferieure (shSr-anhf 5nh-fa- 

re-er'). 
Charnisay (shar-nT-za'). 
Chartreux (shar-tre'). 



102 



PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY. 



ci-devant (se-de-vanli'). 

Cotglle'. 

coureurs-des-bois (koo'rer-da-bwa). 

Contes Populaires (kSuht pop-ji-lSr'). 

couvre-feu (koo'vr-le). 

Daute's Diviiia Commedia (di-ve'ua 

c6m-ma'di-a). 
Ducauroi (dji-ko-rwa'). 
Evau'gelTue. 
Fii'ta M6igii'na. 
Father Feliciau (fe-lTsh'i-an). 
Foiitaine-qui-bout (f6iih'tau-ke-boo). 
Gabriel Lajeuuesse (la-zhe-ues'). 
Gaspereau (gas-pe-ro'). 
Gayarr(5 (gi-a-ia'). 
Gnadeuliutteii (gna-deii-hut'en). 
Graud-Pie (griiuh-pra'). 
Heiod'otus. 

Horae Hellenicae (ho're hSl-lgn'i-s§). 
Isaac de Razilli (de ra-ze-je'). 
Kavanagh (kav'a-na). 
La Clt5 du Caveau (la kla du kJUvo'). 
La Gazza Ladra (la gat'za la'dra). 
La Have. 
La Salle. 
Le Carillon de Dunkerque (le kSr-e- 

J8nh' de diin-kerk'). 
L(;tiche (la-tesh'). 
Lilinau (le'lT-no). 
Louisburg (lob'i-bfirg). 
Loup-garou (16o-gar-oo'). 
mattre de chapelle (ma'tr de sha-pel'). 
Melita (me-le'ta). 
Minas Basin (ine'nas basin). 
Mowis (mo'vves). 



Natchitoches (nSck'e-tSsh). 

uepSu'the. 

Opelousas (op-8-166'8As). 

Outre-Mer (ootr-uiSr'). 

Owy'hee. 

PSssamaqu5d'dy. 

Pierre CapeUe (pe-Sr' kS-pgl'). 

PTs'iquTd. 

Plaquemtne. Bayou of (pl5k-men', bi'66) 

Pluquet (plu-ka'). 

Pointe Coupee (pwSnht kob-pa'). 

Poitou (pwa-tob'). 

Ren(5 Leblanc (re-na' le-blanhk'). 

RocbeUe (r5-shell'). 

Rossini (ros-se'ne). 

St. Maur (sSnh mor'). 

Saintonge (sanh-t6nlizh'). 

Sam'son Xgonis'teg. 

seraglio (se-rSl'yo). 

Siena (se-a'na). 

Silphium laciuiatum (sll'fl-iim la-sTttt f- 

a'tum). 
Straits of Messina (mSs-se'ni). 
Tgche (tash). 
Tous les Bourgeois de Chartres (too & 

bobr-zhwa' de shartr). 
Upharsin (u-far'siu). 
Utrecht (u'trSkt). 
Vendue (vanh-da'). 
voyageur (v\va-ya-zher'). 
Wacbita (wosh'e-taw), 
Walleway (w5U'e-wa). 
vi'ere-wolf. 
Wicaco (we-ka'ko). 
Xerxes (zerks'ez). 



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